


Proof of Love

by VioletHaze



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Dean/Cas Big Bang, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Sam Leaves for Stanford, minor Kevin Tran/Channing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 13:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: Working two jobs and doing his best to pretend his little brother wasn’t leaving for Stanford in a few months, Dean let his friend Benny talk him into a much needed night out. What started out as a fun evening at the bar ended with Dean drunk and face-to-face with a couple of cops outside a bakery. When the bakery owner gave him the chance to come back the next day and deal with his mess instead of going to jail, Dean knew he’d been given an opportunity he couldn’t squander. If only the blue-eyed guy didn’t seem to hate Dean…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many people to thank!! 
> 
> First off, I had such fun working with my amazing artist, [peanutbutterthenjelly](http://peanutbutterthenjelly.tumblr.com/)! You can find her art masterposts on [tumblr](http://peanutbutterthenjelly.tumblr.com/post/167320555127/posting-later-today-for-deancas-big-bang-2017) and [ibb](https://jennpbj.imgbb.com/%22), so be sure to check them out! 
> 
> Huge thanks to [Nat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePamelaOracle/pseuds/ThePamelaOracle) for looking at this fic when I was ready to give up. Without her guidance and cheerleading this fic would never have come together. Thank you to [Chandra](http://pecanpie.co.vu/) as well for being an early reader and providing invaluable feedback. 
> 
> I couldn't have done this without the Tropefest gang's continued support (#TeamGrowlery) and the TrashBrigade chat helping me finish one sprint at a time. 
> 
> Jojo and Muse, your levelheaded leadership made it an absolute delight to participate in this challenge. Thank you!

 

 

 

The only reason Dean found himself in a dive bar on a Tuesday night was because his friend Benny had been relentless, hounding him until he finally picked a night to go out. Even knowing that Dean was working two jobs, Benny had refused to take no for an answer. Dean had put him off as best he could but the truth of the matter was that he really needed this break. Besides, with two-dollar longneck specials, Dean’s money was stretching far as evidenced by the table filled with the empty bottles they’d refused to let the waitress clear. 

“Helps me keep track,” he’d informed her. More than once, possibly. He kept his empties neatly on his side of the table, Benny’s lined up evenly on the other side. They’d thrown some darts, played some pool, all the while shooting the shit and now they were again settled into their booth. 

Dean slumped against the vinyl back of the bench, his eyes closed. This had been an excellent idea. The alcohol flowed through his veins, loosening his limbs. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t feel a line of sharp tension between his shoulders. When he heard the clink of new bottles hitting the table, he slowly blinked the waitress back into focus. Holding his hands up to shield the empties, he eyed her even though she was making no attempt to reach for them. “Helps me—“

“Keep track. Yes. Got it.” She smiled at him before moving away. 

Dean looked with triumph across the table at Benny, who was leaning forward, his new beer held loosely in his hand. Dean picked his up and leaned in to tap their bottles together in a toast before downing a long, cold swallow. “You were right. I needed this.”

Benny smiled wide at his admission. “Someday you’ll realize I’m always right. You’ve been working way too hard. I never see you anymore.”

Despite the haze of alcohol, Dean felt a little twist of guilt. Whether it was for neglecting his friend or for taking time he could be working extra hours to be here, he wasn’t sure. “I know. But Sammy has big plans and I need to be able to help him.”

Benny looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he held his bottle out again. “To Sam and his big plans.” 

The guilt evaporated. “To Sam!”

They stayed until last call at which point Dean made sure to go find their waitress and personally reassure her that she could now clear the table. Dean had hoped the cold night air would alleviate the dizziness he’d felt when he got to his feet but instead of reviving him, he found himself feeling more unsteady. He concentrated on keeping one foot in front of the other, letting Benny lead the way down the sidewalk. 

When Benny pulled up short, Dean knocked into his shoulder. “Dean, look!”

Dean looked at Benny to see why he’d stopped. 

“No, you fool. There.” None too gently, Benny turned Dean toward the glass shop window of a bakery. It was too dark to see what was inside but Benny looked at him with excitement. ”I bet there’s pie in there.”

Dean nearly gasped in amazement. “Benny,” he slurred, eyes wide. “I love pie.”

“I know you do, man. That’s why I stopped.”

“Let’s go in and get some.”

Benny doubled over laughing. “It’s closed. It’s the middle of the night. It’s _closed_.”

Dean put both hands on the window and peered in. His thoughts drifted to his mom, the way pie always made him think of her. But the bakery was dark and deserted and it struck Dean as the saddest thing he’d ever seen. His mom was gone forever and now he couldn’t even get a pie to remind him of her. His mom was gone and soon Sam was leaving, his big plans leaving Dean far behind. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and oh my god he was not going to drunk cry over a pie. He absolutely was not. He shook his head to clear it and found Benny about an inch away from his face.

“You wanna fuck that pie, brother?”

The relief of being distracted from his thoughts left him giggling. “Damn right I do.” He flattened his palms against the glass and rolled his hips against the window. 

“Do it. You fuck that pie. Make it your bitch.” Benny laughed uproariously and slapped Dean on the back.

Neither one of them noticed a light go on in a window above the bakery. 

“I’ll do it,” Dean declared, through a fit of giggles. “I’ll fucking fuck that pie.” He rubbed one hand in an exaggerated motion over the crotch of his jeans. 

“FUCK! THE! PIE!” Benny chanted as Dean unbuttoned his jeans and reached a hand inside.

Dean pressed his face against the window, giving it a little tongue action. His brain got derailed and he stood there for a minute trying to decide what it would actually feel like to stick his dick in a pie. Warm soft apple, cool smooth key lime…the possibilities were endless. He turned to ask Benny his opinion on the matter, but Benny was gone. 

That’s when Dean noticed the siren. 

The red and blue lights were already bathing him in their glow, reflecting off the bakery window where he pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man step out from around the side of the building. Dean tried not to glance at him but he could feel the man’s eyes on him like a weight and when he met them, the man glared at him with tight-lipped disgust. Dean didn’t even have it in him to glare back. He was a mess, he knew that. Drunk on a Tuesday, letting a window prop him up. His hand was out of his jeans now but he didn’t have it in him to do them up again. Instead, he sat down heavily on the sidewalk and tipped his head back against the window, eyes closed. 

Maybe he could go to sleep and wake up to find this was all a bad dream.

A little time passed and then he sensed, more than saw, people standing over him. 

“You want to press charges?” 

“What happens if I do that?”  

“We take him down to the station and let him dry out overnight. He’ll end up with a court date.”

He wasn’t asleep. This wasn’t a dream. If he got arrested, he was going to lose both of his jobs and then what was Sammy going to do? Even this drunk, Dean knew enough to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t stop the tears and he scrubbed at his eyes with the cuff of his jacket. 

There was a loud sigh that didn’t come from up above him. Dean cracked his eyes open to see that the man who had come outside was now squatting down and looking at him from eye level. From the look of his hair, Dean had clearly woken him up. Jesus, Dean couldn’t even manage a night out without fucking up and making other people miserable. 

Still looking at Dean he asked, “And if I don’t?”

“That’s up to you. We can get him home again.”

“Hey.” Dean fluttered his eyes open again at a hand on his shoulder. “You have a place to go?” 

Dean nodded. “I live with my brother.”

“If I let you go, will you come back here tomorrow and help me clean this window?”

One of the police officers snorted behind him. 

Dean tried to sit up a little straighter, ignoring the head rush he got as he did so. “Yes. Absolutely. Anything you want. I just…I’m really sorry.”

The man got a pen and a slip of paper from one of the cops. He wrote something down and handed it to Dean. 

“There’s nothing we can do if he doesn’t show up,” the cop said. “You can’t change your mind at that point.”

“I’m aware of that,” said the man. “I feel confident he’ll show.”

Dean stared at the paper until the words came into focus. “Six-thirty. Ok.” He nodded his head vigorously, then stopped as a wave of nausea overtook him. “Look, I’m setting an alarm right now.” He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and closed one eye so that he could accurately navigate it, scrolling to choose one of the extra-obnoxious ring tones. When he was done, he held the phone out to show the man, then he reached behind him to press his palm against the glass and haul himself back to his feet. 

“You got an address to give us?” One of the cops reached for his arm, but Dean wrenched away and moved toward the bakery man.

“Thank you,” he said, throwing his arms around him and probably rubbing his snotty nose on his collar. 

The man stepped back, his arms still awkwardly at his sides. “Thank me tomorrow by showing up.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll do anything you want.” Dean continued to babble as the cops led him to the car.

*

“Fucking Christ, Sammy,” Dean muttered, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the incessant sound of the alarm. He’d not had anywhere close to enough sleep and the noise hit him like a physical assault. The alarm continued blaring and he uncovered his head and shoved up on his elbow in an angry huff. “Sam!”

That’s when he discovered the sound was coming from his phone which was plugged into the charger as it always was but, instead of resting on his nightstand, it was lying on the mattress right next to his pillow. He stared at it in confusion, feeling throbbing pain in his head with every beat of his heart. Gathering his wits enough to shut it off, he laid back down in the blissful silence. Why the hell was his alarm going off at five-thirty? He hadn’t gotten to bed until close to three a.m. That’s what time the—

He sat up so fast he had to clutch his reeling head in both hands. 

The cops. 

The bakery window.

The guy.

Looking down, he saw that he was still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt from last night. When he tripped over them as he got out of bed, he noted that at least he’d managed to take off his boots. He stood for a moment, one hand pressed against his bedroom door.. He could smell the smoke and stale beer on himself and that, along with the surge of panic that came with his memories of last night, left him swallowing down the urge to vomit. 

With his stomach momentarily settled, he headed for the bathroom. Under the hot running water, he realized he was still a little drunk and he pressed his forehead against the cool tile as he breathed in steam. It didn’t much help. Cursing his own stupidity, he hurriedly shampooed his hair and soaped himself, then turned the water all the way to cold, letting out a sharp yelp as it beat down on him. He stood under the cold spray for as long as he could manage, rinsing out his parched, disgusting mouth with it.  

Shivering, he scrubbed at his skin with his worn towel until he was mostly dry and then he enjoyed what had to be one of the top ten tooth brushings of his life. Wiping his palm through the fogged-up glass, he spared himself a look. 

He looked exactly like he’d expect someone who got shitfaced and slept less than three hours would look. His face was puffy and pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. Hissing _idiot_ at himself, he ran a hand through his damp hair and turned away from the mirror.

Dressed in mostly clean clothes, he hurried to the kitchen. There was no time to make coffee but he managed about ¾ of a glass of water before his stomach threatened to rebel. Along with giving up drinking, he made a mental note never to eat again. He slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and put that, along with some corn chips and an apple, into a lunch bag and left it on the counter where Sam would see it when he got up for school at seven o’clock. Sam would have to get his own breakfast but there was cereal and milk and bread for toast. He grabbed a piece of junk mail off the table and flipped over the envelope to leave a note for his brother: _Had to go in early. Don’t forget your chem notes._

He grabbed his wallet and his keys and closed the apartment door quietly behind him. 

He was glad for the early morning chill. It was mid-spring and the sun was fully up, bright enough already that he kept his eyes down as he made his way along the six or so blocks between his building and the bakery. He had no idea what to expect when he got there. The guy had said something about cleaning the window, that much he remembered. He winced thinking about himself standing there with his pants undone. Honestly, he was lucky not to have woken up in the drunk tank. If the guy wanted Dean to stand out front with an I Humped a Bakery Window sign around his neck to shame him, Dean would be fine with that. Extra points if the picture of him went viral.

The bakery came into sight on the street ahead of him. He checked his phone: 6:28.

In the light of day he could see the familiar striped awning with the name Jimmy’s printed on it. He hadn’t been to this part of the neighborhood recently but he knew it hadn’t been there even a month ago. Jimmy’s had been there for sure, but it had been an Italian take-out place with killer calzones. Not that he and Sam ate out much, but they’d been huge and filling, even to his bottomless pit of a teenaged brother. 

The bakery wasn’t yet open for the day, but there were a few lights on inside. Dean could see the smears he’d left on the plate glass and he had to grit his teeth to keep from turning around and heading home before anyone saw him. Instead, he squared his shoulders and pulled on the door handle. 

Nothing happened.

He cupped his hands and put his face to the door to peer in. The lights seemed to be coming from the back but there was no sign of anyone inside. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A moment later the man from last night appeared from the back, striding through a swinging door and out from behind the counter. Now that it wasn’t dark, Dean could see that the man was nice-looking, maybe in his mid- to late-twenties, with unsettlingly blue eyes. Before Dean could say anything, he was ushered inside and the door was closed and re-locked behind him. 

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off with the speech he’d been rehearsing on the walk over. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it and how sorry I am about last night.” He felt a little weird calling him “sir” now that he could see that the guy was only a few years older than he was, but it seemed best to humble himself in this situation. 

The man stared at him in silence until Dean wondered if there was more he should say. Finally he walked past Dean to retrieve something from behind the counter. He came back with a bucket. “There’s a utility sink in the back corner of the kitchen.”

Dean took the bucket which was empty save for a squeegee. Conscious of the man’s gaze on him, he retreated through the swinging door behind the counter. A large stainless steel table dominated the center of the kitchen and industrial appliances took up much of the space on the back wall. Metal racks on wheels held trays of freshly baked goods, but Dean wasn’t close enough to determine what kinds there were. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and yeast and, despite his earlier avowal, Dean discovered that maybe he wasn’t going to swear off food forever after all. He didn’t linger, though, making a beeline to the sink in the back right corner. It was next to an exterior door that must lead to the alley behind the building.

As the bucket filled, he heard the door swing open again followed by a rattling over on the other side of the kitchen. Dean squirted some dish soap into the bucket and watched as it foamed up. The artificial flowery scent seemed out of place with the rich, warm smell of baking. Turning off the water, he spotted a stack of dish towels on a shelf. He reached for one then stopped, pivoting to address the man now adding ingredients to the largest stand mixer he’d ever seen. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, is it okay if I use one of these towels?”

Without looking up, the man nodded his permission. Dean took the towel and the bucket with the squeegee and moved as quickly as he could to the front of the bakery without sloshing the water. He set it down only long enough to unlock the front door. Outside, he took in a lungful of fresh air then got started. 

Cleaning windows was good, meditative work and he quickly fell into a groove. Working from left to right, he sponged the soapy water onto the glass then dragged the squeegee blade over it, wiping the blade with the towel when it started to drip. It was satisfying to see the smeary marks from his hands and his mouth disappear under the suds, and he spent extra time with the sponge making sure all traces of his humiliation were gone. 

He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice that someone had stopped to watch. “Cas finally did it,” he said in a voice that made Dean jump. 

Whipping around, Dean found a short man with sandy hair standing there. He raised his hands at the sight of Dean brandishing the squeegee like a weapon. “Take it easy, kid. You the new hire?”

“Uh no. I’m just cleaning this up.” He swooshed the squeegee in the bucket again to give himself something to do.

“I’m gonna kill my brother,” the man muttered as he pulled open the door.

Dean finished the window. Then he gave the glass on the front door a cleaning as well. 

By this time, the lights were on inside and Dean could see a red-haired woman was standing at the cash register. A few people had gathered on the sidewalk clearly waiting for the bakery to open its doors. When the redhead approached and flipped the sign to _open,_ Dean held the door for the customers to enter. 

Unsure of what to do with the window cleaned, Dean took the bucket back to the kitchen area, giving the counter and the customers as wide a berth as he could. The only person there was a youngish looking guy with dark hair who was busy sliding trays of something into the oven. He didn’t acknowledge Dean despite the noise he made emptying the bucket into the utility sink, then rinsing off the squeegee and hanging it on the rack. With that done, Dean dried his hands slowly on the towel and tried to figure out what to do next. 

Looking around, he saw now that there were a few other doors leading from the kitchen. One was marked as a bathroom and another looked to be a small office with a desk and a filing cabinet. What must be a staff room had a window that looked out over the work area and through it he could see atable big enough for a half dozen people. 

When the guy had the last tray in the oven, Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, excuse me, do you know if—“

“I don’t know anything other than I need to get six dozen muffins made.” He grabbed a huge metal mixing bowl off a rack. 

“Ok, I’ll just…” It didn’t seem right to just leave but it wasn’t in Dean to stand around and do nothing, either. He glanced through the window in the swinging door and saw the customers being served. One woman held a small boy in her arms and, with the mom’s ok, the redhead offered up a cookie, which the little boy happily grabbed. As Dean watched, he took a large bite, then crushed the rest of the cookie in his small fist. Spurred into action, Dean took the broom from where it hung on the wall next to the mop and went back out front. 

Careful to stay out of people’s way, he swept up crumbs as well as some leaves and dirt that had been tracked in. The redhead was pleasant and efficient, filling people’s orders and making easy conversation. 

“I would sell my soul for a latte,” the woman with the little son said. “This one had me up half the night.”

“I’m so sorry, we’re just a bakery.” She handed a pale blue box across the counter. “There’s a coffee shop at the end of the block, though.”

Dean had a small pile of dirt swept up by the time the initial rush died down. 

“Hi, I’m Charlie!” Dean looked up, surprised to be addressed. “Are you Gabe’s replacement?”

“I’m Dean,” he said. “I’m uh—“ _I’m here doing community service since your boss was kind enough not to have me arrested last night for being drunk and disorderly._ “I’m just helping out this morning.”

“Cool.” She turned as the bell above the door rang. “Welcome to Jimmy’s.”

An older man and woman came in, peering around carefully. “This is new,” the man observed, almost suspiciously.

“Yes, sir, this is our third week in business.”

“What happened to the Italian place?”

“It closed.”

“But that was called Jimmy’s too,” the woman said.

“Yes,” Dean noticed Charlie’s smile got a little tight, like she’d been through this before. “The new owner kept the name.”

“That’s confusing,” the man said. The woman nodded. 

Charlie pulled a little piece of waxed tissue from a box, then bent to get something out of the case. Something chocolate. She held it out. “Would you like to try a Missouri Bar? It’s our signature item. A little taste of our owner’s childhood.”

The couple approached. “What’s in it?” the woman asked. “He can’t have raisins.”

“Makes me gassy,” the man said proudly. 

“No raisins,” Charlie assured them. “Chocolate and raspberry.”

They exchanged glances, then the woman put out her hand. “Thank you.”

“Let me get you one as well.” Charlie quickly delivered one to the man, too. 

As Dean watched, the couple went from delicately tasting the bars (the man even sniffed at his first) to heartily devouring them. By the time they were done, they were examining the case carefully before choosing a half dozen items to take home. 

Charlie winked at Dean. He smiled and finished sweeping, heading back through the swinging door to replace the broom. Just as he returned it and the dustpan to their hooks, the door from the alley opened. The guy who’d talked to Dean outside held it open, waiting for the owner who came through another door which must lead to the residence upstairs. 

“Why not?” the short guy said as they entered the kitchen.

“Gabe, I know but I just need you here a little longer.”

“Cas, I told you I’d give you thirty days. That was almost two months ago. Mom is going to kill me if I don’t get back to the firm full time.”

Cas looked pained. “I know. You’ve been more than generous with your time. The opening has been so busy that I haven’t had the time to find anyone.”

Gabe turned Cas by the shoulder and pointed at Dean. “Look! I found someone!”

Cas’s face hardened and Dean wished he had a place to hide. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Gabe asked.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Cas, he’s already here. Did you tell him to sweep?” Cas shook his head. “Look at that, he’s a self-starter. You a self-starter, Dean?”

Dean was pretty sure this was a trick question. Luckily he was saved from answering when Cas interrupted. “I told you, he’s just here for today.”

“I know, I know, so the kid made a mistake.” Great, Cas had definitely told Gabe his pathetic story. “But the point is he’s showing you a lot of solid, responsible behavior now. Seems like he could be a real asset to the team. Plus, look at him. He could sell a lot of baked goods with that _punim_.”

Dean scowled, wondering if _punim_ meant ass and whether or not he should be offended. His confusion must’ve shown because Gabe circled a finger in the air and mouthed _face_.

Cas rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if he’s looking for work.”

“Welllllll,” Gabe said with exaggerated slowness, “we could ask him. Dean, do you have a job?”

“Two, actually,” Dean said.

“See?” Cas began to turn away, but Gabe was giving Dean a long look. 

“Two part-time?”

“Together they make about 50 hours a week.”

“Minimum wage?”

“One is.”

Gabe reached a hand to stop Cas. When he turned back Gabe caught his eye, waiting patiently until Cas gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Gabe gave his brother a genuine, smirk-free smile before addressing Dean. “What would you say to trading that one out for this one? Cas will pay you two dollars over minimum wage.”

Dean considered. From what he’d seen on the door, the bakery was only open until 2:00. If he came in when it opened at 7, he could still put in five hours before he had to be at the auto shop at 12:30. It would be better than working the night shift at the grocery store.

Apparently Gabe took his hesitation as a bargaining chip. “Ok, three dollars over.” The kid making the muffins slammed a tray down hard onto the countertop.  “You too, Kevin.”

Kevin smiled and went back to ladling batter. 

“What do you say, Dean?”

Even though a part of him felt pinned beneath Cas’s steady blue eyes, the money and the hours were too good to pass up. Dean took a step forward and held out his hand. “I’d have to give my notice but if we can make the hours work, you’ve got a deal.”

Gabe pumped his hand vigorously. “We can. Welcome to Jimmy’s. Your new employee orientation starts now.” 

Dean went to shake Cas’s hand as well, but Cas was already moving back to work alongside Kevin, his arms full of ingredients and his face unreadable. 

 *

Dean found out just how much there was to learn as Gabe walked him through a typical day at the bakery. Although it was a small operation, there was plenty for him to do. There were deliveries to unload, floors to keep clean, and always _always_ things to be washed. Out front, Charlie gave him a tutorial on the cash register and showed him where the supplies were for making coffee in the industrial pot. Obviously he wasn’t qualified to do any actual baking, but Kevin showed him how to measure ingredients using the food scales and how to take things like muffins and cupcakes from pans when they were cool. He could sift powdered sugar over cooled bar cookies and sprinkle pecans onto warm, sticky cinnamon rolls. All the while, Cas went silently about his work, sometimes disappearing into the office for stretches of time. 

At around eleven o’clock, Gabe announced it was time for a break and ushered Dean into the little staff room. He came back soon after with a selection of pastries and two cups of coffee. Dean eyed the choices and reached for the chocolate square that Charlie had offered the couple earlier. It was delicious, with the richness of the dark chocolate perfectly tempered by the tart raspberry filling. The coffee wasn’t anything special but it was hot and the caffeine was more than welcome. 

With the Missouri Bar demolished, Dean sampled a banana muffin which was elevated by a sweet glaze drizzle and a crunchy streusel topping. “Hazelnuts and cacao nibs,” Gabe explained. 

“S’good,” Dean said around a bite. He chewed and swallowed then glanced at the door to the office. “You guys are brothers?”

Gabe smiled. “People never tire of asking that. But yes, we are.”

Dean felt like he’d wandered into dangerous territory and he tried to backtrack. “I just mean…you seem pretty different.”

“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “Cas has always been quiet, but stubborn. Our mother was none too pleased when he set his own course.” Gabe sounded proud that his brother had broken free of whatever had awaited him. He shook his head. “Family business can be a blessing and a curse.”

Dean did his best not to scoff. After his mom had died, the family business had consisted of his dad getting then losing a string of shitty jobs, always irregularly enough that Dean would think _this time it’ll stick_ only to get his hopes dashed a day, a week, six months later. Dean’s family business had been making sure his dad didn’t choke on his own vomit when he passed out and keeping Sam off his radar when he was drunk but still upright. 

Whatever sort of future his own mother had imagined for him, he was damn sure the way his life had turned out _wasn’t_ it. But he’d kept a roof over Sam’s head and food on the table, so he doubted she would fault him for that. 

When he realized Gabe was waiting for a response, he managed to nod and give a half-hearted “Yeah.” 

“I’m sure they thought I’d be the one to break ranks, but there’s something to be said for a guaranteed hire and a cushy job, even if it’s soul-crushingly dull. Cas has dealt with a thousand times more stress since he decided to open this bakery, but he says it’s what he wants.” Gabe shrugged and picked up a cupcake. “As long as he keeps me supplied with pastries, I’ll be his biggest cheerleader.”

Dean could see through the window that Cas was back out in the kitchen area again. Kevin asked him a question and Cas explained something to him, stirring a bowl of batter gently as he did. Kevin listened raptly, then nodded and Cas gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder when he was through. It struck Dean as funny to see someone so serious about sugar and chocolate, but he supposed that’s what made it his passion. 

Dean had time to learn a few more basics before he had to leave at noon for the auto parts shop. Gabe walked him to the door and, once they were outside, he turned more serious than he’d been all morning. “My brother gave you a chance. If it’d been me, your ass would’ve been in the pokey. But he didn’t do that because…honestly, I can’t begin to understand why, but he did.” His eyes became steely. “I put my ass on the line getting him to hire you today. If you fuck this up or screw him over in any way, I will end you. That’s not going to happen, right?”

Dean knew he was lucky not to be in jail. He’d somehow gone from fucking up in epic fashion to having a brand new job offer. The exhaustion currently kept at bay by the buzz of sugar and caffeine in his system had him nearly vibrating in his own skin. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean got home at dinner time, he could hear music blaring from Sam’s room. He yelled his brother’s name as he set the bag of subs on the counter. 

“What?” Sam yelled back once he’d paused the music.

“I brought food.”

Sam was in the kitchen almost before the sentence was out of his mouth. “Oooooh, Rocky’s! What’s the occasion?” He pulled both footlong subs out of the bag and started to unwrap the one labeled bbq chicken. Dean snatched it away.

“Plates. Table.” He’d like nothing more than to eat his flopped on the couch, but this was no time to start bad habits. 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes—his preferred means of communication these days—but he took out plates. With extra flair he dropped a still-wrapped sub on each one and carried them to the table. “Happy?”

“Extremely. How was school?” Dean poured Sam a glass of milk and filled one with water for himself. 

“Fine.” Wow, Dean was going to miss these one-word responses. 

“And your chem test?” Dean prompted. 

“Fine. Hey, where were you this morning?”

Taking a big bite of roast beef sub, Dean chewed slowly to buy himself a minute. Perhaps he should’ve spent some time today thinking about how to answer that. “Well,” he took a swallow of water. “I got a new job.” Technically true.

Sam’s eyebrows disappeared under his shaggy bangs. “A third one? Dean, you don’t have to—“

“No, Sammy. This one pays more. I’m gonna ditch the night stuff at the market.”

“Oh,” Sam said, surprised. “Oh, that’s good, then. What is it?”

There was no reason Dean should feel weird about saying it. 

Dean felt weird about saying it. 

“It’s in a bakery, actually.”

“They’re putting you on days at the store?”

“No. It’s someplace else all together. You know Jimmy’s down on Third Street?” 

Sam nodded. “You don’t just forget those calzones.”

“Yeah, well, it closed and there’s a bakery there now.”

“It closed?”

“Yeah.”

“But what about my need for calzones?”

“You’re gonna have to replace it with…cinnamon rolls or something.”

“A bakery.”

“Yes.”

“You. In a bakery.”

“Yes.” 

“I mean, you can cook ok but you barely know how to bake.”

Dean relaxed. The nice thing about Sam being a self-involved high school senior was that he didn’t even question the fact that his brother had gone out drinking last night with Benny then somehow woken up to go directly to a brand new job in a bakery. Sam didn’t need to know the details and Dean knew Benny would keep his mouth shut. Well, around Sam anyhow. Dean was quite sure he’d never hear the end of this when it was just the two of them. Speaking of which, he really needed to check in with Benny. Other than a quick response to Benny’s “U in jail?” text, they hadn’t communicated at all. He wasn’t even mad that Benny had left him there. He would’ve run too, if his brain had been any less alcohol-soaked. He crumpled up his sub wrapper and threw it at his brother. “I won’t be baking. There’re lots of other things that need to be done, too.”

Sam threw the wrapper back. “Like tasting?”

That led Dean into a description of the things he’d sampled this morning, while Sam pouted and practically drooled and demanded he bring some home. 

“That’s the merchandise, Sam. I can’t just bring it home any more than I could help myself to new brake pads at the auto shop.” 

“I don’t wanna eat brake pads,” Sam whined. 

“Nah, you’re gonna go to California and eat seaweed and shit.”

Sighing, Sam flipped his hair out of his eyes. “Dean, if you’d just _try_ sushi—“

“Not happening, Sammy.” He looked at the two dirty plates and two glasses. “Guess I’ll do the dishes.”

“Oh, what a sacrifice. I have to study English anyhow.”

“You’re already accepted to Stanford,” Dean said, pride and panic both poking into his chest. “Maybe dial it down a notch.”

“Oh my god, Dean, I’ve told you a million times, they still look at second semester gra—you’re a jerk,” he said, when he saw Dean’s smirk. 

“Get back to work, bitch.”

Even with Sam sequestered in his room with headphones on, Dean didn’t risk talking to Benny. Instead he pulled out his phone to text him as he cleaned up the kitchen. 

**So not only did I not get arrested, I got hired at the bakery.**

_What the fuck are you talking about_. Dean knew he must be riled up if he took the time to spell out wtf. He was still typing his response when the next text came through. _Do they have a program for drunken perverts?_

**Idk man. The guy took pity on me or something. Cops were there but he asked me to come in and clean the window this morning. Then he hired me.**

_That’s crazy_.  

Honestly, the more Dean thought about it, the more he couldn’t believe his luck. **I’m not complaining. No more night stocking.**

_Sounds shady to me. I’ll miss you when you get human trafficked._

_*_

Dean’s alarm went off the next morning leaving him staring at the time on his phone in confusion. He didn’t need to be up yet so why in the hell was it harassing him now? He swiped it off and laid back down, closing his eyes to drift back off again before jerking awake. The bakery. Swearing, he jumped out of bed in a panic for the second day in a row. At least this time he was stone cold sober. 

Generally, Dean worked until two in the morning at the grocery store, then set his alarm for 6:30 to get up to make Sam’s breakfast, pack his lunch, and facilitate his getting out the door. After that he could go back to sleep for a few hours until his shift at the auto parts store started. This getting up and staying up was going to take some getting used to. He’d gone over his schedule with Gabe before he left and they’d pieced in times for Dean to work until his two weeks notice was up. He wasn’t scheduled at the grocery store until tomorrow night, but he planned to call and give them the heads up today. 

Worried about time, Dean showered quickly and gulped down a bowl of cereal. He made sure to leave plenty of milk for Sam and then rearranged things in the fridge so that his lunch bag was front and center and less likely to be forgotten. Outside in the parking lot, he stopped to run his hand along the Impala’s hood. Jimmy’s was in walking distance which would help save on gas, but he’d miss taking the old girl out. 

The streets were quiet this early although he passed a few other people standing at bus stops or out for a morning run. This time he knew to walk down the alley to the back entrance where he found the door propped open. Cas and Kevin were already in the kitchen, elbow deep in pastry. 

Cas looked up when Dean came in the kitchen. “You’ll find an apron in the staff room. Then wash your hands, please.”

Dean stifled an eye roll. _Really? He needed to wash his hands in a place where food was being prepared? Who knew?_ He hung up his coat and put the apron on over his head, tying it behind his back before returning to the kitchen to thoroughly wash his hands. He waited a moment for the boss to notice him again, then cleared his throat. Gabe had gone over a lot of details with him, but he wasn’t sure what to do first. Cas looked up again, his face a mask of concentration as his hands rolled dough into a long log. “Where would you like me to start?”

He nodded crisply at Kevin. “He can show you.”

Kevin lifted his head and looked between the two of them. “Oh. Okay.” He set aside the bowl he’d been stirring and wiped his hands clean on a towel. He walked Dean over to the rolling rack where things were already cooling and explained to him how to load the trays to take out to the front. From behind the counter, he pointed to the various shelves in the glass front display case. “Muffins and scones, cinnamon rolls, bars, cupcakes.” He pointed to the large glass domes that sat on top of the case. “The cookies go up here.” A row of shelves lined the wall behind the counter. “Pies stay back there.”

Dean nodded and Kevin left him to it. He lined each tray with parchment paper before loading it and carefully carrying it to the front. He worked as quickly and carefully as he could, doing his best not to squish or crowd the delicate pastries as he handled them. He saw Charlie getting aproned up as he went to load another tray and she smiled at him before heading directly to the front to, he presumed, get the cash register set up. When he came back out with a tray of what appeared to be some sort of chocolate chip muffin, he found her bent over, rearranging the trays he’d already put in the case. He stopped short and the door swung back and hit him on the ass. Luckily, he held the tray steady. 

Charlie straightened and turned to him. “These little signs in the front have specific types on them so you want to be sure to line them up.” She was pleasant as she corrected him, but Dean felt a flare of shame anyhow. He’d seen the back of the signs as he loaded the shelves but hadn’t thought to walk around the front of the case to see what was written on them. 

“Sorry.” She reached for the tray in his hands and tipped her head to indicate that he should go around to the front and check it out. The varieties were written in neat white printing on black rectangular cards and from reading through them, he learned that he’d been carrying chocolate chip cranberry muffins. He tried to decide if those would be good or weird. 

He was still contemplating when Cas came through the swinging door and strode around the counter to view it from near where Dean was standing, the way a customer would. He perused the shelves, expressionless. Then he looked at Charlie. “The snickerdoodles are a mess.”

Charlie reached for the glass dome and used tongs to straighten the cookies Dean had done his best to arrange on the plate underneath. Before she was finished, Cas announced. “The orange scones are too crowded.” Charlie nodded and threw a look Dean’s way. He scurried back around the counter to help her while Cas stood and inspected the rest of the space. 

“What do I do with these?” Dean muttered, holding three extra scones. 

“Back in the kitchen,” she muttered back before addressing Cas. “All good?”

He responded by unlocking the front door before disappearing again into the kitchen. 

Dean tried to catch Charlie’s eye in a _this guy amirite_ look of solidarity but she seemed unfazed and immediately went to work greeting and helping customers. Under her direction, Dean filled boxes with the orders she passed along. It was slow going because he didn’t recognize everything by sight and the signs only helped the customers, but before too long he was able to keep up.

When the opening rush died down, Charlie sent Dean to refill the case. When he came back with the latest offerings, she was folding boxes to have ready for the next batch of customers. 

“Want me to do that?” 

She shook her head. “Dishwashing time. I’ll yell if I get swamped.”

Yesterday Gabe had shown him the big triple sink for washing, rinsing, and sanitizing dishes. Already there was a pile of baking sheets, mixing bowls, and all sorts of utensils Dean couldn’t identify waiting for him. From the looks of things, someone had already been washing before he got there. Dean got to work, trying to go as quickly as he could but even so, Cas came by to check the drying rack for things he hadn’t gotten to yet. Dean hurriedly washed, sanitized, and dried whatever he needed before delivering it back over to his work station. Sometimes he got a grunt of acknowledgement in return. 

There seemed to be a never-ending supply of new things to wash and just as Dean was starting to get a handle on it, Charlie pushed open the swinging door with her hip and yelled for back-up. Wiping his hands dry, he went out front to help. A line of customers stretched from the counter to the door and Dean sprang into action as Charlie passed along orders. A small child, maybe three years old, ran back and forth across the length of the shop while a tired-looking mom holding a baby tried unsuccessfully to keep her in line. She was wearing a shiny pink gown with a horse on the front and one of her arms was covered in an assortment of jeweled plastic bracelets. Her little feet were in glittery sandals and her brown hair was styled into two tiny stubs that could scarcely be called ponytails. She skipped and sang as her mother waited for their turn.

Dean was impressed with Charlie’s unfailingly cheery nature. “No, sorry, we only have regular brewed coffee.” “Yes, this place _did_ used to serve pizza but there’s a different owner now.” “If you like chocolate, definitely try the peanut butter brownies!”

When the mom with the baby got to the front, she called over the little girl from where she was busy slapping the metal flap of a trash can. “I need to order a birthday cake,” the mom told Dean. 

“Uh,” Dean said.

“I can help you with that!” Charlie grabbed a clipboard and began to confer with her. 

The little girl half-skipped half-twirled over, tugged on her mom’s purse and announced, “Cookie!”

The mom nodded a yes to Dean’s questioning look then went back to discussing cake options. 

Dean smiled at her. “Hello, there. Are you a princess?”

The little girl nodded and smoothed her pink dress. “I’m Princess Maya.”

“Hello, Princess Maya. My name is Dean and I am here to serve you a royal cookie.” He looked at the cookies on top of the counter, but Maya had other ideas and she pressed both hands against the glass of the case, with her face close enough to fog it up. “Cookie! Cookie!”

Dean supposed pretty much anything sweet counted as a cookie at that age. “Ok, what kind would you like?”

She sucked on two fingers for a moment and studied, before pointing.  “That one.”

Dean hovered his tongs over a brownie. “This one?”

“No!” She yelled. “ _That_ one.” This time her point left a smear of drool on the glass.

Dean tried again, only to be wrong again. He crouched down so that he was at her eye level. Maya giggled when she saw him through the glass. He waved. She waved back. Eventually he determined she wanted a shortbread bar, and he carefully pointed to a series of them until finding the one that met with her approval. He took it from the case and she reached up with two small hands, her bejeweled bracelets clacking together. 

“Let’s make sure this is for now.” Maya’s mom was smiling at them and gave her ok. 

Dean moved from behind the counter as Maya skipped to meet him. With a deep bow and a flourish, he presented her with the treat. “For Princess Maya.”

 

 

[ ](https://ibb.co/hgdG8G)

She grabbed it with one hand, then gave him a sticky high five before taking a big bite. A trail of crumbs followed her as she scampered back to hide behind her mother’s legs.

Dean straightened up, still smiling, to find that Cas stood near the register watching him. His brow was furrowed like he was a little puzzled at what he’d just seen and Dean worried that he’d been out of line. Maybe he was supposed to stay behind the counter. Perhaps he shouldn’t take so much time with one customer. Dean moved back into place to help the next customer, but the store had emptied out again. 

“Dean,” Cas said.

Dean looked at him. His face had softened somewhat and the side of his mouth was quirked up into something that could almost be called a smile. Dean felt something inside him relax. That little girl _had_ been irresistibly cute. “Yes?”

The relief was short-lived as Dean followed Cas’s nod toward the smeary display case. “I know you know how to clean glass.”

*

Dean knew he was in for a busy two weeks while he finished out his time at the grocery store. It was going to cut into his sleep, but his bank account was going to more than make up for it. Piecing together the shifts for all three jobs meant the only time he was guaranteed to see Sam was at dinner time and in the early evening. 

He didn’t complain about how tired he was because nobody working in a bakery had any sympathy for that, but Charlie came back from the staff room one morning after the opening rush ended with two cups of coffee. “You look like shit.”

He took the styrofoam cup gratefully. The coffee wasn’t good but it was hot. “You have a charming way with words.”

She curtsied. “It’s a gift.”

He took another swallow, then yawned so hard his jaw ached. “I’ll be down to two jobs next week and things will settle down.”

He couldn’t tell if the look she gave him meant she was impressed or thought he was an idiot. “You’re working three jobs.”

“Temporarily,” he corrected. 

She thought for a moment. “Are you married?” She asked just as Cas came out with a tray of cakes to be put in the refrigerated case for special orders. 

He swallowed before he risked snorting the coffee out his nose. “Nah. Do I look like the settling down type to you?” Anxious not to be caught slacking, he put down his coffee and started folding boxes. 

Charlie crossed her arms. “Hey, boss, what do you think a guy like Dean needs three jobs for?” 

“I wouldn’t begin to presume,” Cas said, moving to set the tray on the counter near where Dean was folding. “Gambling debt?”

Dean’s head shot up but Cas was focused on placing the cakes into boxes. He worked with a precision that Dean admired, long fingers keeping the frosting intact as he packaged each cake. He’d make a good mechanic, Dean thought idly. Or maybe a surgeon. 

“No gambling debt,” he muttered. 

“Saving for a Corvette?” Charlie ventured.

Dean made a literal pfffft noise. “No, I’ve already got the sweetest ride I could ever hope for.”

All the cakes boxed, Cas wiped his hands on his apron and narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You seem like a motorcycle type of guy.”

Dean wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but he definitely knew he didn’t like this guy making assumptions about him. “Sixty-seven Chevy Impala.” Before he could stop himself he added, “Only good thing my dad ever gave me.” 

Well, that sure made things awkward. _Good job, Dean._

Now Charlie was giving him big-eyed sympathy and even Cas had tipped his head a little as he processed what that could possibly mean. Time for some damage control. 

Dean put the conversation on a new course. “I take care of my little brother. He graduates high school this year and then he’s off to Stanford.”

Charlie whistled, low and impressed. “Stanford’s not cheap.”

“Definitely not, but the good thing about being poor and having a genius for a brother is there’s a ton of financial aid. He got a sweet offer, but that doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing.” Dean said, as Cas placed the cakes in the refrigerated case. “So I work as much as I can.”

Without a word, Cas carried the now-empty tray back into the kitchen. Dean and Charlie shared a look, then Dean sighed. “He was really great to give me this job, but I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Charlie considered that for a moment before saying, “I’ve known Cas for a while. He’s a good guy, even if he’s not good about showing it.”

Not sure what she knew about the circumstances under which he got hired, Dean hedged a little. “He and I got off on the wrong foot. Hopefully he doesn’t regret giving me this chance.”

“I haven’t heard a word of complaint, if that’s any consolation,” Charlie reassured him. “Believe me, he had plenty to say about Gabe when he was working here.”

Dean laughed. “Well, siblings are fair game, everybody knows that.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that one,” Charlie said. 

“Only child?” She nodded. “Must be nice,” Dean said, because that’s what you were supposed to say. But truthfully he couldn’t imagine a life without Sam. Even when he gave himself a moment to reflect on what it might be like to have the apartment to himself, able to come and go and cook (or not cook) whatever his heart desired, instead of feeling free, he felt a wave of loneliness. Thinking about it now, it unsettled him enough that he took one more drink of his coffee before pitching the cup and busying himself in the mindlessness of washing dishes. 

The work here at the bakery was pretty pleasant, truth be told. Nothing too taxing and it smelled like heaven from the moment he walked in the door until the time he left. He knew he was lucky to be here, lucky to have the opportunity to drop that night shift, lucky he hadn’t been thrown in jail and fucked up Sam’s future. 

He just wished that Gabe had been the one running the bakery. On the occasions when Gabe was around, Cas seemed…human. The entire place felt looser and lighter. But, he told himself, a decent work environment and a solid paycheck made up for any amount of tension with his boss. He’d keep his head down, do what was expected of him, and focus on being able to send Sam to college with everything he needed. 

*

A few days later, Dean was working the counter by himself while Charlie went on break. He’d gotten a handle on which products went where and he was able to identify most of them from sight alone which helped when customers had questions. He’d joked to Charlie that they should ask Cas to keep samples in the break room so that he’d be an even more knowledgeable clerk. Because maybe it was vitally important to know that the dried cranberries stayed chewy in the muffins or that the scones were studded with mini chocolate chips, not regular. With no customers currently present, Dean took a moment to do a little restocking, heading into the kitchen to gather up a tray full of whatever was ready to be displayed. He nearly bumped into Cas on the other side of the door, but Cas kept moving, not even acknowledging Dean’s quick apology. Yeah, he wouldn’t be asking for those samples any time soon. 

From the back he heard the bell over the front door jingle, but he finished what he was doing, knowing Cas was out front. When his tray was full, he returned to find Cas standing stiffly behind the counter talking to a pair of women. 

“What’s that?” The dark-haired woman pointed to something in the case. 

“That’s a triple cinnamon scone,” Cas answered.

“What’s in it?”

“Three kinds of cinnamon.”

The woman gave him a look, like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Surreptitiously, Dean looked between the two of them, uncertain himself. 

The blonde slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head, using them to hold her hair behind her ears. “So what’s good here?”

Dean paused in his unloading as Cas took in a noisy breath. “Everything here is good.”

“Yeah but…” she pressed on, gesturing to the entire display. “What’s the best?”

“Everything I make is of the highest quality, otherwise I wouldn’t offer—“ 

Dean set down his now-empty tray with a clang loud enough to divert Cas’s attention. Ignoring him, Dean turned to the women and smiled what he knew was his most charming smile. “Our head baker is understandably proud of his products,” he said, even as he reached for the tray of Missouri Bars. “But you may want to sample one of these. They’re his signature bar: dark chocolate with raspberry.” When the women nodded to the questioning raise of his eyebrows, he quickly handed two over the counter. 

“Oh shit, that’s good,” the dark-haired woman said. The blonde nodded and chewed. 

“I heard you asking about the scones? They have a cinnamon streusel filling, mini cinnamon chips, and a cinnamon glaze.”

By the time the women left, they were each loaded down with a box of baked goods and Dean was pretty sure that he could’ve gotten one if not both of their numbers had Cas not been standing there.

Dean delayed looking at him as they left the shop, pretending to fiddle with the receipt tape in the cash register. He finally turned when he heard Cas let out a long sigh. Before he could apologize for stepping on his boss’s toes, Cas thanked him. 

“The baking I can do. The people stuff, not so much.” Dean nodded in what he hoped was a sympathetic way. He’d seen the guy effortlessly sculpt butterflies and bumblebees out of fondant and pipe elaborate borders onto cakes, but here he was having difficulty with Customer Relations 101. “This is why I liked having Gabe here. This part is like breathing for him.” He looked more closely at Dean. “You seem to be good at it as well.”

Dean felt a strange rush of warmth flood through him at the unexpected praise. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I couldn’t do what you do.” 

“You’d be surprised what you can learn when you put your mind to it.” 

Dean probably should respond to that, but for the first time, he was seeing a warmth in those blue eyes. He stood transfixed trying to figure out a response when Charlie came back out. 

“Did I miss a rush?”

“No,” Cas said, still staring at Dean. “Just a lesson in customer service.”

“Oooooookay, then.” She resumed her spot at the register. “You wanna take your break now, Dean?”

Cas held the door open for him.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t that Dean was creepily watching his boss or anything, but he couldn’t help noticing that Cas spent a lot of time moving around the kitchen grabbing various bowls or measuring cups from where they were stored on the open shelves. After conferring with Kevin one day when Cas was gone for a couple of hours picking up supplies, Dean confirmed what he’d thought: although there was variation in some of the recipes, for the most part all muffins used a certain set of equipment, the same way the cookies did or the scones. 

“It would be a lot more efficient to group things by recipe.” Dean gestured to the shelves, thinking about the way Bobby had taught him to lay out tools when he worked on the Impala. “Cookie making here, cinnamon rolls here. You’d have everything you need in one place without having to walk around and collect stuff.”

“It makes sense,” Kevin admitted. 

“Like a tray of instruments set out for a surgeon,” Charlie said. 

“Exactly.” Dean picked up a stack of bowls. “We could sort everything out into stations.”

“Maybe…” Kevin started.

“...you oughta check with Cas first,” Charlie finished. 

“Yeah, but once he sees how much easier it is, he’ll be fine with it.” He held the bowls against his chest while he picked up a stack of cookie sheets. “Help me rearrange these.”

Charlie chewed her lip. “I’m sure he’ll think it’s a good idea but you should check with him first.”

“He’s not big on surprises,” Kevin said. 

Charlie was literally saved by the bell. “Gotta run!” She headed out of the kitchen to see to the customer. 

“Ok, but this would be a lot better,” Dean insisted. 

Kevin got up and walked over to the far shelf to get some cupcake tins. “I have cupcakes to make.”  He snagged two bowls out of Dean’s stack as we moved back toward his workspace.

“Ok, but what you’re doing right now? That’s a perfect example.”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m just saying Cas doesn’t like—”

They both jumped as a large box hit the floor. Cas stood next to it, hands on his hips. “Go on.”

There was a long, tense moment where nobody spoke. Finally Kevin turned to Dean. “He’s right there. Ask him.”

“Ask me what?”

Dean threw Kevin a dirty look then rearranged his face to a neutral expression as he pivoted toward Cas. “I had an idea to rearrange things to make this area more—” Cas walked away from him back out the door. Dean followed him out to his car. “Efficient.”

Cas pulled a box out of his trunk. “I don’t need you to tell me how to run my bakery.”

“I’m not trying to tell you how to run it. I just wanted to make it easier on you.” He grabbed another box and followed him back inside. When Cas didn’t respond, he put the box down near the shelves and followed him back out to the car again. 

Dean stopped short when Cas whirled around. “How?”

It was hard to concentrate when Dean kept being distracted by how blue Cas’s eyes were in the morning sunshine but he managed to explain his idea somewhat coherently. As he spoke, the lines on Cas’s face softened and he stared at Dean before he answered. “That could work.” His brow furrowed. “I should’ve thought of that.”

Dean shrugged. “You’ve got your hands full. Sometimes you need a fresh pair of eyes for things like that.”

Cas looked over Dean’s shoulder, toward the open back door. “I know they think I’m...inflexible. I’m open to reason, I just don’t like other people making decisions for me.”

The memory of Gabe calling his brother stubborn that very first day surfaced in Dean’s mind, but coupled with that he could see Cas was worried that he was making things difficult on the staff. Suddenly Dean felt the need to reassure him. “They both said I should ask you first, that’s all. And they were right. I have no business changing anything up without your approval.”

“It’s a good idea. Could we sit down and work it out on paper before you start moving things around?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled at him. “Yeah, of course. Whenever you want.” Maybe it was because this validation was so hard won, but Cas’s approval sent a flutter of warmth through Dean. 

Cas nodded, looking generally pleased, and handed Dean another box from the trunk.

*

Later that same week, with the new organization plan up and running, Dean asked Charlie the question that had been plaguing him. “Look, other than ‘does this come in gluten-free’, the question that I get most often is ‘do you have coffee?’” 

Blowing a strand of red hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face, Charlie gave a weary nod. “And when you show them the pot, they practically shudder.”

“Yeah.” Cas had two of those restaurant pots on burners. One regular, one orange-coded for decaf. Generally the earliest customers—who tended to be senior citizens—might buy a styrofoam cup of it, but once the moms with young kids started showing up, tired from wrangling them in and out of carseats or strollers, they were looking for espresso. 

“I mean, how hard would it be to offer fancy coffee? People expect it everywhere these days.”

“Believe me, we’ve had this discussion. He’s missing out on a huge opportunity but…” she poked her head in the back. “Cas!”

“Yes?” 

Charlie flashed Dean a shit-eating grin before turning back to the open door. “Dean has something he wants to ask you.” Dean glared at her. “What? He likes you. And he listened to you about the kitchen.”

Dean was still processing the _he likes you_ when Cas appeared but he attempted to look the perfect amount of innocent and deferential. Oh great, there came Kevin as well. Time for an impromptu staff meeting. 

So,” Dean began, chipper and nonthreatening, “have you ever thought about offering coffee, too?”

Cas squinted. “We do offer coffee.”

Standing behind him, Kevin took on a pained expression.

“No, but like…lattes and cappuccinos and stuff like that.”

“We’re a bakery,” Cas said. 

“Well, yeah, but you know what people love with their baked goods? Coffee.”

“We have coffee,” Cas repeated and Dean knew he was about to lose him. 

“Ok, but I’m talking more than just espresso. Like, have you considered a few more options? Maybe milk for the kids? Milk and cookies are totally a thing.” There’s no way Cas couldn’t have considered this already, but he looked like...maybe he’d never considered it. Dean wracked his brain to what he’d seen in the break room. “Or tea? Nothing like tea and scones!” Dean didn’t think he’d ever had a cup of tea in his life, at least not on purpose, but apparently this was the right thing to say because Cas finally looked interested.

“Oh yeah,” Charlie chimed in like this was just occurring to her. “We do get a lot of kids in here. And people like tea all day long.”

Dean nodded encouragingly then decided to play dumb. “I know I’m new here, but it seems like a lot of people leave the bakery with their purchases and go straight down the block to the coffee shop. That’s money they would spend here that they are literally taking out the door with them.”

Cas went silent for a moment, considering. “Yes, but that requires machinery and expertise and staffing.”

Kevin stepped past Cas to interrogate Dean. “Do you know how to make espresso?”

Dean hesitated but opted for the truth. “No, but I used to tend bar. How hard can it be? The machine does most of the work and then I assume it’s just a matter of mixing espresso and milk in various combinations.” The grocery store where he’d worked had a Starbucks inside and he’d seen the baristas at work which reminded him... “Have you seen what people will pay for coffee?”

Charlie nodded. “Almost five dollars for a latte.”

Cas tilted his head. He was starting to look owlish. “I don’t know. I think we have a pretty good thing going here.” With that, he was gone again.

Kevin smacked himself in the forehead. “He’s missing out on a gold mine.”

“I don’t understand his objection,” Dean said quietly. “He’s letting money walk out the door.”

Charlie sighed. “He told me once that he wanted to feel confident doing every part of the business. He doesn’t know how to make espresso so instead of learning or trusting that we could handle it, he shuts it down.”

Peeking through the window in the door to see that Cas was safely back at work, Dean muttered, “He sucks at dealing with customers, but that doesn’t stop him from keeping the bakery open.”

Charlie laughed. “You want to tell him that?”

By the time Dean got to the auto parts store, he felt increasingly worried. Cas had barely spoken to him the rest of the shift, closing himself in his office when he wasn’t baking. Dean tried to shake it off as he went about his afternoon, but there was a very real chance that he’d overstepped his bounds. 

Working with Cas left him so off balance. On the one hand, he was the kind, careful guy who’d given Dean a chance. But every time he thought they’d forged some sort of a civil relationship, Cas would have one of these days where it seemed like he could barely stand the sight of Dean.  

He’d given Dean this chance without knowing the first thing about him, and Dean should be grateful for that. He should do what was expected of him and stop worrying about what Cas thought. Dean had been hired to do a job. Nothing more, nothing less. He should know enough by now to keep his head down and his mouth shut. 

After dealing with the third cranky and demanding customer in a row, Dean realized why he had trouble convincing himself that his work at the bakery was any old job. He’d always thought he wanted to be a mechanic, but with no chance to go to school himself, working an auto parts shop was the closest he’d gotten. It was supposed to be a stepping stone to something more, but somehow he’d been doing the same mind-numbing part time work for over a year. Hell, it hadn’t even evolved into the full time position he needed. Working here, the majority of customers he came into contact with were frustrated and weary. They were wary of being taken advantage of and stressed over costs. It was in stark contrast to the bakery where people strolled in, oohing and ahhing at the array of treats. It was rare not to deal with a happy customer, one whose smile invariably widened when they held a cupcake or cookie or box of baked goods in their hand. 

The bakery was a welcome respite from the rest of the world: warm and fragrant, bright and clean. It was a place people came to for the lift they got from treating themselves and the people they cared about. They came for cakes to highlight their celebrations. Birthdays, anniversaries, retirements…people gathered together to partake in a bit of sweetness as they shared important life events and marked the passage of time. Dean enjoyed having a part in that, like he was a guest at these celebrations even without an invitation. 

He stopped short, holding a package of fan belts. He needed to plan Sam’s graduation celebration. Nothing big, but there were a handful of people who would have his head on a platter if they weren’t there for the big day. Bobby, Ellen, Jo…they’d be coming from Sioux Falls so he definitely needed to make some arrangements. Dean wondered if he could get some sort of employee discount on a cake. Yet another reason to keep the boss happy.

*

Once the opening rush ended the following morning, Cas called Dean into his office. Dean wiped his hands on his apron to buy himself some time while his pulse spiked. He followed Cas into the small space and tried to formulate an apology but he decided there was no point when he saw the serious look on Cas’s face. Dean let his head drop for a moment, then lifted it back up to meet Cas’s eyes as he waited for his inevitable fate. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” Cas said.

_Yeah I just fucking bet you have_ , Dean thought, trying not to outwardly wince.

“To pull that off, I’d need someone who could be here full time. Is that something you could commit to?”

_Wait, what._

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve been researching espresso machines and coffee bar set ups. Adding that in would require more staff hours. Would you be interested in working here full time and taking the lead on that?”

Dean blinked a few times as his brain tried to catch up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’d need to know a few more details but I think that should work.”

Cas smiled at him and, despite this positive turn of events, oddly Dean felt his pulse race once again. 

Despite his own admonition to keep his mouth shut, he found more ideas tumbling out. “You know, there’s room there to put in a couple of small tables and chairs, too. Give people a place to sit while they eat and have their coffee. Maybe some tables out on the sidewalk too for when the weather is nice. Seeing people out there enjoying your food…that’s just good advertising.”

Cas nodded. “I suppose so. I don’t want things to feel too crowded, though.”

“Yeah, we can take a look at the space, but I think it would work. Oh! Maybe a day old case, too? Make some profit on the leftovers?”

“No day old case.” Cas frowned. 

Dean backed off. “Ok, whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

Cas opened the door. “I know. Back to work.”

Maybe he was being hasty to trade in a sure thing like an auto parts store for a riskier endeavor like a bakery. He’d seen small businesses like this open then fail in this neighborhood time and again. But when he considered the benefits to working full time and the fact that the change in hours meant he’d be done shortly after Sam got home from school, he knew it was the right decision. This way, too, he’d have more time in the afternoons and evenings to spend with him over the summer before he left.

*

By the time Dean worked his way through yet another two weeks’ notice, Cas had acquired most of the makings of a coffee bar. In addition, there were a trio of small cafe tables with chairs set along one side of the bakery and a little station for cream and sugar. A new refrigerator was in place to store milk and cream. There were pounds and pounds of coffee beans ready to be ground and stacks of cups ready to fill. Bottles of pump-topped flavored syrups stood in a line along the counter that had been cleared to make room for the new industrial espresso machine. 

The day it was delivered, Dean devoted much of his spare time to reading the instructions and orienting himself. He was intimidated by the sheer size of it and he knew it must’ve cost a fortune. It calmed his nerves look at it like a car engine, learning and studying the parts to see what each one did and how they worked together. Once he took that approach, it was actually fairly straightforward. Beans went in the hopper. Grounds got tamped down into the portafilter. The portafilter locked into the brew head for the hot water to pressurize it into a fresh shot of espresso. The shiny little wand steamed the milk. Reminding himself that Sam had friends who worked in coffee shops and were able to operate these machines helped him build up the nerve to play around with it. 

He gave the laminated cheat sheet that came with it another perusal. Lattes, cappuccinos, americanos, whateveros…honestly, he didn’t get it. To him, coffee was a caffeine delivery method, plain and simple.  But he knew people took this shit seriously and that there was money to be made. (The number of people who approached him with hopeful eyes while he was still learning how to use the machine was enough to tell him this was an excellent business decision.) 

Charlie was his handy-dandy guinea pig and he bestowed his very first latte upon her. She studied it intently, even holding up the cup to the light like she was examining the vintage of his espresso. Dean rolled his eyes.

“There’s nothing to see, Charlie. Just tell me if it tastes right.”

“Don’t rush my process.” She took a brief sip, then a longer swallow. “Not terrible.”

“It’s good?” 

“It could be a little foamier on top, but otherwise good.”

Buoyed by her praise, Dean went for another try. A cappuccino this time. He took it back to Kevin who was mixing up batter to put in the fridge for the next day’s baking. Kevin eyed it happily then drank eagerly. “Good shit,” he pronounced. 

Cas was in his office and Dean knocked on the door jamb before sticking his head in. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Vanilla.” He kept his eyes on the computer screen.

“That’s boring,” Dean said. 

Cas looked up and Dean saw a smear of what looked to be apricot jam on his cheek. He looked so perplexed that Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “You asked me a question and I answered.”

“Fair enough,” Dean admitted. “One vanilla latte coming up.”

Cas followed him out to watch the process. Dean talked him through each step as he pulled the shot of espresso, added the vanilla syrup, then poured in the steamed milk. Cas accepted the finished product almost reverently, sniffing at the cup before tasting it. He let his eyes flutter closed and slumped a little against the counter. “Heavenly.”

Dean found himself grinning. “I’m a genius.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “It’s not exactly rocket science over there. I’ll be impressed when you start making like, designs and stuff. I saw poodles sculpted from foam once.”

“Oh my God, Charlie. I only just mastered a shot of espresso today. Maybe give me until tomorrow for that?”

Cas clutched the cup with both hands. “When do you think we’ll be ready to go?”

Dean considered. Charlie and Cas were working together to print up a menu and price list. Eventually Charlie was going to learn to use the machine as well, but in the meantime, he could handle it. “As long as the customers are willing to be patient, I think we could start tomorrow.”

“I can hang up a sign that says _Slow but Pretty_ ,” Charlie offered. When Cas regarded her with a raised eyebrow she added, “Look, I’ve got eyes.” 

Cas smiled and Dean looked between the two of them. “O…kay. I’m going to practice a little more, if that’s all right.”

Dean worked on improving his speed and comfort level until he didn’t have to refer to the cheat sheet. He was tasting an americano when Cas came in to grab some boxes. “I’m closing up now.”

Surprised, Dean looked at the clock. It was an hour past when his shift ended and everyone else was gone. “Oh, sorry. I’ll get this all cleaned up and get out of your way.”

“I appreciate you staying late. Would you like to take some leftovers home with you?”

His brain buzzing a little from the copious amount of caffeine he’d consumed, Dean actually bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “That’d be great! Thanks!”

“Anything in particular?”

“Anything’s good.” He was finishing the final bit of clean up when Cas came back with a box for him. 

“I remember you said your brother likes fruit so I chose some things I thought he’d enjoy.”

Probably it was the coffee, but Dean felt a rush of warmth at the thoughtfulness directed at Sam. “He’ll be thrilled. Kid could eat everything, including the box itself.”

*

He walked home with the box hoping it might put Sam in a good mood. Dean had been so pleased with his new schedule, happy to have more time at home but apparently he was the only one. Before they were even a week into his new routine, Sam had snapped at him when Dean called back to his room to see if he wanted a snack.

Dean found himself standing in Sam’s doorway with his hands on his hips. “What’s your goddamned problem?” 

“I’m trying to get my work done.”

“Sorry for trying to make sure you don’t starve to death.” Dean tried to keep his tone light but he could hear the edge to it. Jesus, it’s not like he was torturing the kid. 

“Look, it’s great that you have this new job and all, but I’m used to being home alone after school. Now you’re here every day and it’s…” he trailed off at the sight of Dean’s face. 

Dean felt his stomach clench. “It’s what, Sam?”

“I just…need some downtime after school.”

“Fine.” Dean turned on his heel and left him to his precious downtime. In his head he actually thought the words _you’ll be sorry next year when you have to do everything on your own_ but he realized how martyrish mom they sounded and swallowed them back down. Then he remembered that “next year” was actually in like four months and yanked the vacuum out of the closet and proceeded to clean every surface he could. He vacuumed the shitty worn carpet, careful not to let it snag on the loose threads where it hit the linoleum floor. Then he vacuumed the linoleum floor despite the fact that he’d swept last night and there were maybe three crumbs to speak of. From there he used the attachment to vacuum every inch of couch cushion, pulling them off to vacuum underneath them until the roar of the machine replaced the blaring in his brain and his heart rate settled back to normal. 

While he worked, he thought about the conversation he’d had with Bobby right after Sam had said yes to Stanford. When Sam had called to tell them the big news, Dean could hear the enthusiastic responses on the other end and, even through the phone, it caused a twist of guilt in Dean’s chest. It was the unabashedly joyous response Dean hadn’t been able to give Sam, although outward appearances may have told a different story. Inside, Dean felt hard and angry, betrayed by his brother who had, unbeknownst to him, applied to Stanford with early decision. Dean hadn’t even known what that was until Sam explained that it meant he’d made a binding commitment to attend if they accepted him. Their acceptance meant he would withdraw all of his other applications. There was a perfectly good university right in Lawrence, but apparently Sam couldn’t wait to flee to the farthest edges of the country. 

Later, Dean had taken the phone into his room and it was Bobby who had talked him out of his funk in a surprisingly insightful way. 

“It’s the natural order of things, son. You raise kids to be independent so they can leave the nest.”

“He could leave to KU.” Dean tried not to sound like he was pouting. “It’s not like I’d ask him to live at home. Or what’s wrong with St. Louis? Wash U is a great school.”

“He’s not trying to get away from you, Dean. You gave him the confidence he needed to get there. Going to the best school he can is how he’s thanking you. You should be proud.”

“I am…it’s just…” Dean didn’t know what it was, to be honest. He’d joked about finally turning Sam loose in the world but he’d never dreamed he’d go someplace Dean couldn’t get to without a twenty-four hour journey or, even worse, a plane ticket. 

“He ain’t running away, Dean, it's more like—I can't believe I'm saying this—," there was a long pause and Dean could picture him smooshing his cap down onto his head as he sighed. "It's more like you've given him wings."

"So I'm a freaking Red Bull now?" Despite the snark, Dean couldn't deny that hearing Bobby put it that way made him feel the tiniest bit better.

Bobby didn't take the bait and his voice was gentle when he responded. "The odds were against you boys but you've both got a lot to be proud of. Anybody who knows that kid knows your part in this."

Dean felt something begin to tighten in his throat and he blinked hard to dispel the stinging in his eyes. "Don't go getting sappy on me, old man," he said in a hoarse voice.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Stanford or no, you'll both always be idjits to me."

Dean barked a laugh of relief at that. "That's more like it." He hesitated but Bobby didn't seem to mind the silence. "You'll come in May for the ceremony?"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world."

Today, as he had since the day Sam had snapped at him, Dean would do his best to stay out of his brother’s hair, at least for a little while when he got home. Some days, when he least expected it, Sam would bring his laptop out and do his homework in the living room, chatting with his brother as he did. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, Dean thought, as he balanced the box in one hand to unlock the apartment door, but he wasn’t past bribing Sam if an apricot pistachio oatmeal cookie bought him a few minutes of time and gratitude. 

*

Day One of coffee service was an exercise in stress management. Customers were equal parts excited and patient and even though nobody complained, understanding the tenuous situation of the new set-up, Dean spent much of the day feeling cold rivulets of sweat run down his back. He scalded himself on the steamer and once he didn’t have the portafilter tightly fitted and sprayed himself with hot water, and one woman wanted a macchiato—whatever the fuck that was—but the rest he managed with plodding, steady effort. It took until the end of the day, just in time for the bakery to close, for him to feel like he was finally getting into a routine. But when Charlie did a run of the receipts, it was readily apparent that they’d brought it a nice chunk of change in coffee sales. 

With everything still so new, Dean once again he found himself staying late to get the coffee bar cleaned up and in shape for tomorrow. He was tired, mostly from the mental exhaustion of concentrating all day, but also pleased at how it had gone. 

By the time Dean went back to the break room to get his coat, Cas was in his office. He’d been so wrapped up in his work that he’d barely seen Cas all day, but he didn’t even look up as Dean passed by. It’s not like he needed his boss’s approval for a day of work well done, but today had been a special occasion of sorts and from all accounts, it had paid off. Dean was literally scalding his own skin making a profit for the guy who apparently couldn’t be bothered to throw him a word of encouragement. 

Dean took a deep breath and tried to take a mental step back. It should be enough to know he’d worked hard and been a part of a team that developed and successfully executed this new aspect of the business. Dean held his coat in his hands and twisted at the fabric. That was the problem. They were a team. Or supposed to be. And the head of the team couldn’t find a moment to cheer them on. It was bad business management is what it was. Quickest way to lose your team’s loyalty was to only deal with them when there was a problem. But ok. Charlie had said that Cas wasn’t too interested in the aspects of the business that were outside of his direct purview, so fine. Dean would continue to do a good job and take solace in the fact that he was working hard and having good results. 

He put on his coat and called a terse goodbye to Cas as he left. 

“Dean,” Cas called back.

Dean stopped. Maybe he’d judged too soon. “Yeah.”

“Could you give me a hand with these?”

Sighing, Dean turned back. Cas was gathering up his keys and phone and he nodded toward the stack of four Jimmy’s boxes on his desk. Dean picked them up. “I’m sure you get hungry on your long commute,” he finally said as Cas finished shutting down his computer. It was a dumb thing to say, but he felt dumber standing there in the silence that didn’t even seem to register with Cas. 

“These aren’t for me,” is all he said. Dean rolled his eyes again but he waited until Cas’s back was turned first. “I’m going to double check the front door, then we’ll go out the back.”

_Ok, buddy, but_ we _aren’t going anywhere. I’m going home._ Dean carried the boxes toward the back door and stood there waiting. Cas returned a moment later and held the door open for Dean before following him out and locking it. He held out his hands for the boxes which Dean happily turned over to him.

“Ok, well, see you tomorrow.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away. To his surprise, Cas fell in step beside him. 

Dean frowned at him but Cas seemed unperturbed and asked, “Do you live in this direction?”

“Yeah, about six blocks.” He pointed vaguely in the right direction.

“I’ll walk partway,” Cas said. 

Honestly the guy was so hard to read that Dean couldn’t tell if he was being obscure and difficult on purpose or if he was just clueless. After a half block of silent walking, his voice had an edge of bitterness when he finally caved and asked for clarification. “Where are you going? Grandmother’s house?”

“My grandmother is dead.” _Oh good job, Dean_. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, I mean like Little Red Riding Hood? With your…never mind.”

“Oh,” Cas said, thoughtfully. “That’s funny.”

His deadpan delivery was so at odds with his pronouncement of humor that Dean laughed, despite himself.

Cas gave him a small smile. “Actually, I suppose I am going to grandmother’s house. Just not mine. I take our unsold inventory to the senior center.”

Well, that was unexpected. Dean blinked a few times. “That’s nice of you.”  Cas’s vehement refusal of the day old case made sense now. 

“Many of them are low income and they seem to appreciate the treats.”

“I’ll bet.” Dean found himself wondering if Cas simply dropped them off or if he went inside to talk to the seniors, thought about him sitting across a table listening to an old woman talk with that look of complete and total attention on his face, nodding solemnly as she related some story about when she was young. The old people probably loved that. He could picture it: Cas leaning forward slightly, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was hard to focus on anything else when he was zeroed in on you like that…

“Dean?”

Dean roused himself from his reverie. “Huh?”

“I said I’m turning down this way. Thanks for all your hard work with the coffee today. See you tomorrow.”

Dean stopped walking to look at him. Cas stopped too, the boxes stacked in his arms tall enough to obscure his chin. Dean found himself staring at his mouth until he realized Cas was looking at him like he was expecting him to speak. 

“Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Gabriel showed up, Dean had a week and a half of coffee making under his belt. Even so, he couldn’t believe the order Gabe laid on him. “How many pumps? Caramel too? _Plus_ whipped cream?” Nonetheless, he made it according to Gabe’s specifications and handed it to him with a skeptical look on his face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to cram a couple of cupcakes in there too?”

Gabe lifted his eyebrows in consideration. 

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Cas warned him.

Dean waggled a finger at the espresso machine and Cas nodded. With practiced ease, Dean readied him two shots of espresso to make him a vanilla latte. He fashioned the foam on top into a feathery pattern, one of two designs he’d mastered. Gabe slurped at his “coffee” and declared it delicious. 

“I told you you should’ve done something like this from the start,” Gabe said, licking whipped cream from his upper lip. 

Cas frowned. “ _You_ said I should open an ice cream shop.”

“I said ice cream shop _and_ bakery.” He looked around the shop. “There’s room, you still could.”

Dean finished sprinkling a little cinnamon on top of the latte, the way Cas liked it, and looked around the bakery to appraise the space.

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Cas said again, to Gabe this time.

“Despite being full of brotherly wisdom and superior knowledge, he never listens to me. It wounds me that my influence carries so little weight.”

Ignoring his brother, Cas took the cup from Dean with a small smile. 

“So, I heard this was all your doing, kid. Funny how I propose the same idea and get the brush off but when the new boy toy comes in and bats his eyelashes, suddenly an espresso machine is the best idea since chocolate croissants.”

Cas regarded Gabe levelly. “Your _help_ hasn’t always been helpful.”

“We almost never opened,” Gabe confided to Dean. “This place was nearly a bust before it even started.”

If Dean wasn’t mistaken, it was more than the steam coming off the coffee that had Cas looking a bit pink. “You don’t say?”

“We had some naming difficulty,” Cas said, but he looked into his cup as he spoke. 

“So,” Dean ventured, looking at the stack of paper coffee cups he’d recently stamped with the shop’s name. “You kept the name ‘Jimmy’s’.”

“It felt right,” Cas said, with a set to his jaw like he was waiting for an argument. “And I liked the sign.”

“That’s cool,” Dean said, deciding not to mention that he hadn’t realized the space had changed hands as a result. That couldn’t have been good for business.

Gabe set his cup down on the counter. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”

“Gabriel.”

“Naming a bakery is hard, okay? I’m not arguing that point. But your ideas were terrible. What was wrong with Slice of Heaven?”

“It’s bad enough I’m named after an angel. I didn’t want to be cliché.”

An angel? Dean had heard talk that Cas came from a religious family, but that was news to him.

Looking at Cas, Gabriel gestured grandiosely at Dean. “Tell him the names you wanted.”

Cas scowled at his brother. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“A Wing and a Layer,” Cas said, a little sheepishly.

Dean smiled. “That’s not bad.” 

Cas looked back at him gratefully as Gabe cut him off. “Sounds like he’s selling fried chicken.”

Frowning, Dean considered that. “Okay, a little.”

“Tell him the other one.”

Cas sighed. “Turnover A New Leaf.”

“Landscaping service.” Gabe dismissed it with a shake of his head. “And he flat out refused my ideas.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Your ideas?”

Cas grabbed a cloth and wiped at a nonexistent spot on the counter. “Is this really necessary?”

“It’s always good to have an unbiased opinion, Castiel. Dean here looks like a smart fella and I bet he’ll agree with me. I thought he should go with The Blue-Eyed Baker. Fitting, eh? 

More than fitting, Dean thought. Absolutely perfect. It was the first thing anybody noticed about Cas. Well, provided his hair wasn’t sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his face was free from flour smudges. 

Taking his hesitation for indecision, Gabe took him by the arm and pulled him closer to Cas. “You’ve seen those peepers, right, Dean-o?”

Now they were standing toe to toe and when Cas glanced up to meet Dean’s eyes, Dean unexpectedly felt his own face burning. It’s not like he hadn’t seen them before. The first time Cas had unlocked the door to let him in he’d been struck by how blue they were. Even in his fuzzy, hungover state there’d been no missing it. His boss was a good-looking guy, nobody could deny that, and the current lack of personal space made that both obvious and more than a little intimidating. 

“You, uh, didn’t like that?” Dean finally managed.

“I didn’t want it all about me.” If Dean wasn’t mistaken, the tips of Cas’s ears were a little pink. That definitely wasn’t from the coffee. “I’d rather focus on the product.”

Gabe slapped his hand down on the counter, startling Dean enough that he took a step back. “I had the perfect solution for that.”

Sighing, Cas shook his head. “That was never going to happen, Gabriel.”

Moving his hand from left to right like he was reading a sign, Gabe said dramatically, “Cronut On My Face, Bro.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he should laugh at that or not. But he knew with absolute certainty that there was no way he could look at Cas while that particular mental image was being bandied about. Apparently it made him blush even harder, which Gabe mistook for modesty.

“Really? That offends your delicate sensibilities? The guy who literally went dicks out for Cas’s pie?” Gabe laughed at his own joke, but Cas just stared at him and Dean felt as small and pathetic as he had that night, drunken tears streaming down his face. No matter what he did, he was always going to be that guy to Cas. The one who could barely take care of himself. The one he’d hired as a pity move. 

Dean tried to smile like he was in on the joke, but it felt tight and forced. He busied himself with wiping down the espresso machine as the brothers disappeared into the back of the bakery. 

*

Seeing as precious Sammy needed his alone time, Dean found himself in no rush to hurry home each day. It was nice to have some quiet time in the afternoons while the sun was still shining and Dean liked the chance to get things cleaned up and organized for the next day without customers interrupting. Dean’s new routine meant that often he and Cas were the last ones there and many days they left together, locking up the building and carrying the boxes of leftovers for those few blocks, chatting easily as they matched each other’s stride. 

On one hot day in early May, Dean finished up front but when he checked see if Cas was ready to leave, he found him scooping cookie dough onto a tray. 

It was the wrong time for baking; that got done throughout the morning and, other than special order cakes, the afternoon was devoted to mixing and prepping for the next day. “Hungry?”

Cas looked a little abashed. “No, it’s just that we didn’t have much leftover today so I’m baking a little more to take to the senior center.”

Dean beamed. “That’s because my brilliant coffee idea is packing the house.” The coffee bar had been steadily popular, with more and more people adding on drinks to go with their baked goods, some even coming in only for coffee. People sat at the tables, both inside and out, enjoying what they’d just bought, happy to have a place to sit and eat things still warm from the oven. 

Cas shrugged but there was a ghost of a smile playing around his mouth. “Something like that.”

He slid the tray into the oven. “I figured I’d use the time they’re baking and cooling to do a few things. Would you mind giving me a hand? I’ll pay you for the extra time.”

Dean considered, he was happy to help but he wasn’t sure the extra money was the draw he needed. Sam’s graduation was coming up and he was going to need the day off. For whatever reason, he felt weird about asking, like he was still too newly employed to ask for favors. Honestly it wasn’t like it was even an issue because he’d be at Sam’s graduation if he had to quit every job he held. He didn’t want it to come to that, though, so maybe this would be the time to ask. He waved a hand at Cas. “No need to pay me. What do you need?”

“I want to replace a couple of bulbs with these high efficiency ones. It’s easier to do when the place is empty but Charlie made me promise not to drag out the ladder by myself. Something about not until she could fit me with a Life Alert necklace.”

Dean laughed. “She’s right. Happy to help.”

“Give me a minute to run upstairs and get the bulbs. The ladder is in the store room.”

Dean had the ladder out and waiting by the time Cas came back. He’d taken the time to change out of his usual jeans into a pair of ridiculously dorky looking cargo shorts. 

“That’s a good look for a baker,” Dean teased. “You can put muffins in every pocket.”

Cas looked down at his own legs. “They’re comfortable, practical, and cool on a hot day. You should try them.”

“Nah, I don’t do shorts.” He reached for the package of bulbs. “You want me to do that?”

“I can change a light bulb.”

"I’m sure you can,” Dean argued. "But it's not the best use of your time. Let me take care of this and you can take those cookies out of the oven or alphabetize the spices or whatever."

Cas fixed him with a steady gaze. "Who cooks for Sam?"

Dean blinked, not sure where this was going. "I do."

"And you do his laundry?" 

"There's just the two of us. Easiest to combine into one load."

"Proofread his papers?" Apparently all those times Cas seemed like he wasn’t listening, he’d been taking in every throwaway comment Dean had made. Possibly in preparation to toss it all back in his face today. 

Dean slumped against the counter. "Do you have an actual point?"

"Why should I take time management advice from you?"

They locked eyes for a charged moment. Dean straightened and then snapped the ladder open. "Up you go."

Cas managed to look only a little smug as he handed Dean the bulbs. With Dean holding it steady, he climbed the ladder and those stupid cargo shorts left his toned legs exposed right near eye level. Dean did his best to ignore it, focusing on taking the old bulb out of Cas’s hand and trading him up a new one. By the fourth time they’d moved the ladder (stopping to pull the cookies out after the second time) and Cas had climbed back up, Dean was struck with an urge to trace the muscular curve of Cas’s calf with his tongue. It was an urge that manifested so suddenly and with such force that he missed Cas asking him to hand up a bulb. Dean had to wipe his palm on his jeans before picking up the delicate glass. 

Lost in thought, Dean let the conversation dwindle. It had been a shock the first time he realized he liked more than just the soft curve of full breasts and the gentle narrowing of a waist. Standing in front of him was further evidence that he was also quite fond of corded muscle and the sharp jut of hipbones visible when Cas’s shirt rode up each time he reached above his head. 

Okay, this was not good. Not good at all. 

When they were done, Dean put the ladder away and considered sneaking out the back door, but Cas was already boxing up the last batch of cookies. 

“I’m just about ready,” he said, smiling at Dean like nothing had changed. Which made sense. Nothing _had_ changed for Cas. It was only Dean who was the idiot, letting his brain take him someplace he should never go. 

As they left the bakery, this new awkwardness made him gruffly voice the request he’d been toying with. “I’m going to need the last Friday in May off.”

Cas looked at him with concern, which made Dean feel like an asshole. “Everything all right?”

“Sam’s graduation,” he said, almost defiantly.

“Oh, of course!” Cas looked pleased which didn’t help Dean’s attempt to be distant one bit. “I’m sure we can swing that. Do you need that Saturday off as well?”

God, what a jerk this guy was. “No, just the one day is all I need.”

Cas began to think out loud about how they would cover for Dean that day, asking Dean’s opinion about training Charlie to take over with drinks and having Cas come help out front. 

“Or maybe Kevin,” Dean said because he was a child who couldn’t play nice even when somebody was being kind to him. Or maybe especially when somebody was being kind to him. How dare Cas be thoughtful and kind and blue-eyed and hot and unattainable to somebody like Dean. It was outright rude.

Luckily they were nearly to the corner where they parted ways and Dean could go on alone and convince himself that Cas was the cold, unapproachable boss from the early days.

“One last thing,” Cas said when they stopped at the corner. “I’m making Sam a cake.” He raised an eyebrow when Dean started to protest. “I won’t hear another word about it. It’s my treat.”

Dean was so screwed. 

*

Dean wound his way through the bar until he found Benny sitting in a booth near the back. When he spotted Dean, Benny got up to give him a quick hug and slap him on the back a few times. Dean slid into the seat across from him and signaled the server for a beer. 

Benny held up his own almost empty bottle. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Dude,” Dean laughed. “Remind me not to take drinking advice from you.”

Benny laughed as well. “ _That_ was a night to remember.”

“Yeah, it was almost immortalized forever in my mugshot.” Even though he’d been working at the bakery steadily for nearly two months, he still felt a prickle of anxious discomfort over his run in with the police. Now and then he woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding over what that night could’ve turned into and how it might have affected Sam’s future. 

“I still can’t believe the way things turned out.”

Dean shook his head. “I know, man. My luck is never that good.”

“So, how is it working at a bakery? Not exactly in your career plan.”

For as long as they’d known each other, Dean’s ultimate goal had been to work as a mechanic. The auto parts store, as soul-killing as the work had been, was his attempt to get a foot in the door. “It’s a nice place to work,” he finally said. “It gets pretty busy sometimes but the customers are generally cool.”

“Hours are shit, though, right? They open so early?”

“Yeah, but I’m done early too.” Dean found he didn’t hate getting up that early. It made him feel like he had somehow gained a bunch of extra hours each day.  “It sure as hell beats working in the middle of the night.”

“You work weekends?”

“The bakery’s open Wednesday through Sunday, so yeah, there go my weekend nights.” 

“That sucks.” Dean was only halfway through his beer, but Benny had drained his and ordered another.

“Yeah.” Truthfully it wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t realized the toll piecing together his part time hours had taken on him until he started working regular daytime hours. Plus, it wasn’t like he had a compelling social life that was suffering from his new schedule.

“So, your boss. Is he making you pay him in sexual favors for keeping you out of jail or what?”

Dropping his eyes to the table, Dean laughed, then rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Nah, he’s actually...really cool.”

Benny looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?” 

“I know that look.” Dean rolled his eyes and Benny leaned back, arms crossed against his chest in satisfaction. “You like him.”

This was the problem with friends who knew you too well; they loved to flaunt their in depth knowledge of you. “It’s not like that.” Benny raised both eyebrows and Dean sighed. “Ok, it’s a little like that but…it’s nothing.”

“Why not?”

“He’s my boss, Benny. And I’m pretty sure he only gave me this job because he felt sorry for me.”

Benny shrugged one big shoulder. “Maybe. But he’s had time to get to know you aren’t the human disaster you were that night.”

“Maybe.” Dean took another drink, but the beer soured in his throat. They’d had some time to get to know each other, that part was true, and Dean no longer thought Cas hated him. He’d known Cas must be a decent guy to give him that chance in the first place, but as time passed, he’d discovered Cas wasn’t the closed-off hardass he’d originally thought. He was smart and thoughtful and could be funny when you least expected it. Dean had watched him go from a boss who wanted no questioning of his business decisions to someone who actively solicited feedback and even asked for help on occasion. But what had Cas learned about him? No matter how many days Dean showed up sober or how hard he worked, he doubted there was anything he could do to completely erase that first impression he’d made. Human disaster was probably too kind of a description. 

“So, what’s your plan. Keep this to yourself and hope you don’t get your blue balls caught in a mixer?”

Dean cringed at the image. “Did I mention he’s my boss? My plan consists of not getting fired.” 

“Coward,” Benny said, but his eyes were full of amusement.

“The last time I listened to you, I nearly got arrested.”

“The last time you listened to me, you got hired by a dreamy baker.”

Dean felt a flush of outrage on top of his embarrassment. “I never said that!”

Benny took another sip of beer. “You didn’t have to, brother. It’s written all over your face.”

*

In the couple of months Dean had been at the bakery, he’d made the transition from co-worker to acquaintance to friend. It had happened first and most easily with Charlie, no doubt thanks to the fact that they interacted the most during each day. It also helped that Charlie was open and easy to talk to, and that she was one of the least judgmental people Dean had come across. It wasn’t long before she teased out his love of Star Trek, a passion Dean had discovered on nights when John was out and no matter where they lived, one or another of the series always seemed to be on late night television. With Sam sound asleep, Dean would watch with the volume low, the characters keeping him company while the hours ticked away and the night grew long, leaving Dean unsure if he hoped his dad would come back home or stay away. He didn’t tell Charlie all that, of course, but as they talked, they found a lot of shared interests like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, which Dean had never intended to like, but Sam’s foray into it had proven irresistible. He learned that she went to fan conventions and cosplayed and did cool things that Dean didn’t even know existed, like LARPing. 

It was during one of their endless discussions/debates at the close of a day that Cas, after watching them argue while they got the front cleaned up, confessed that he’d never seen any of the Harry Potter movies. That stopped them dead in their tracks and Dean lowered the mop he’d been gesturing at Charlie with. Kevin finally broke their stunned silence.

“Are you kidding me? Even I’ve seen them and my mom had to approve everything I watched.”

Dean and Charlie both started talking at once and Cas looked surprised by the outpouring of emotion. While they couldn’t always agree, they all forcefully concurred that Cas needed to see them. 

“You have to watch, man,” Dean said, shaking his head at Cas. “I can’t believe you’ve gone this long.”

“Your education is incomplete,” Charlie insisted. 

“That settles it. Watch party at my place,” Dean offered. He was used to having Sam and his friends pile into the small apartment for movie nights. No big deal.

They made a plan but the day before they were due to get together Charlie came to him with a hangdog look. She explained that the girl she had a crush on in her tabletop games group had invited her to a movie the next night and she’d told her yes without even thinking about it. “I hate to be that friend, but I figured you’d understand.”

Dean high-fived her. “Good for you. We’ll miss you but—“

“More pizza for me,” Kevin yelled. 

It would be less fun without Charlie but there was no universe in which Dean would begrudge her this opportunity. But by the next day the plan changed again. 

Dean found Kevin in the break room with his head down on the table and the lights out. On closer inspection, his folded up apron was covering his head. 

“You ok?” 

“Migraine,” Kevin said into the table. 

Cas took one look at Kevin and sent him home. Dean pitched in where he could in the back to cover for him. “I guess maybe we should reschedule?”

“Why?” Cas looked genuinely baffled.

“Well, it’s down to the two of us. Not exactly a party at this point.”

“I thought the point was for me to watch it.”

“I mean, yeah, it is…” Dean stopped, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Did you still want to come over?”

“I have it on my calendar.” Cas spoke the words with an earnest certainty that Dean refused to consider cute. 

“Ok, then. I’ll see you at six as planned.”

*

Dean straightened up as best he could before Cas arrived. Everything was clean but there was no doubt that next to nothing in their apartment was new or matched. Dean could’ve easily cooked something for the two of them, but the original plan had called for pizza and, well, maybe Cas had that written on his calendar as well. He’d splurged on some nice vegetables to make a  decent salad with and, when Sam made literal heart eyes at them, he’d made him swear under threat of cutting his hair while he slept not to eat them all beforehand. 

Sam was in his room when Dean got home, and he hollered at him to come out and retrieve the pile of his shoes that had formed just inside the front door. If their boat size didn’t trip you, the smell would bring you to your knees and no way was Dean letting anyone in until they were safely behind closed doors. 

“When’s everyone getting here?” It was a seemingly innocent question but Dean knew Sam had his eye on those vegetables. 

Dean opened the drawer in the refrigerator to be sure Sam hadn’t left only carrots. “Well, Charlie had a date and Kevin got a migraine, so it’s only Cas.”

“Just you and Cas? Is that going to be weird to hang out with just your boss?”

“I tried to reschedule but he still wanted to come over.”

Sam gave him the half-disbelieving, half-disgusted look that only a younger brother could muster. “Why?”

And that right there was the million dollar question. What exactly was this? It wasn’t a date, that was for sure. It wasn’t like they’d made plans just the two of them, it was supposed to be a group get together. Even if they had, it was just two friends watching a movie. That’s totally something a couple of guys did, right? And just because he was attracted to Cas didn’t mean they couldn’t still be friends. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas was into guys. Probably not with such a strict, religious upbringing. Dean knew how to have guy friends. He had Benny, and before that there’d been Aaron. But they mostly went out to bars to drink and play pool or darts. Occasionally they’d go to each other’s places to watch a football game or something like that, so maybe that’s what this was. A couple of guys hanging out. No big deal. 

_Jesus Christ, Winchester, don’t make this weird._

“Dean?”

Dean jerked his head up to meet his brother’s eyes.  He could feel the flush creeping up his neck. Awesome. He was making this weird. “Can you believe he’s never seen Harry Potter?” Sam’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and Dean decided to roll with it. “Right, I told you that already.”

“You can’t start with the movies. Didn’t you tell him he should really read the books first?”

Um.

Well, that was an excellent question. One of the things Dean loved best about his brother was how smart he was, how he could always be counted on to take the intelligent point of view. Except for right now. Right now that dumb overgrown puppy was way too smart for his own good. 

“Well. Apparently not. Now don’t you have an English paper due?” He fixed Sam with his best get-your-shit-together look and Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge.

“It’s just a first draft and I’m mostly done with it.”

“Get it finished if you want to go out tonight.” 

When Sam was safely out of the room, Dean opened the freezer and stuck his head in it until his face cooled off. 

Filled with nervous energy, Dean busied himself trying to scrub the hard water stains from around the kitchen faucet. It wasn’t that he worried that Cas was going to judge how he lived. From the sounds of it, Cas had grown up with every luxury so Dean knew his place didn’t stand a chance of comparing. It was just a lot to let anybody into their apartment. It was peeling back a layer of himself that he didn’t often show to anyone. He was protective of his place here with Sam, of the life he’d built for them.

Before long, he’d be the only one living here. Sometimes when he was alone in the apartment, even knowing that Sam would be back in a matter of hours, the cramped rooms seemed to thunder with empty space, an aching loneliness that pressed in on Dean from all sides with an almost physical weight. He rinsed out the sink with scalding water and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. 

Something occurred to him, leaving him in a cold sweat. They’d talked about time, but he’d never actually given Cas his address. Here he was making all these preparations and Cas wasn’t going to think he even meant the invitation. He scrambled for his phone but was stopped by the sound of a knock at the door. 

Cas stood there, not in the Jimmy’s t-shirt he’d been in during the day, but in a dark blue Henley and jeans. If the damp way his hair curled onto his forehead was any indication, he’d showered before he came over. Dean stood there trying to reconcile this knowledge.

“Hello, Dean. I hope you don’t mind that I got your address from your personnel file.”

Dean slumped a little against the door, acutely aware of how clammy he felt all over. “I just now realized I never gave it to you.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh yeah. Of course.” He stepped out of the way to let Cas through. Only then did he notice that Cas was holding a blue box.

“It may be presumptuous of me, but I brought dessert.” He held out the box as Dean reached for it and there was an awkward moment when their fingers fumbled and brushed as the box changed hands.

Dean was pleased that he managed not to react outwardly to the jolt of electricity that ran through him from the casual touch. “Jimmy’s, huh? I think I’ve heard of it. Is that place any good?”

“Nah, not really. The guy who runs it doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Dean smirked a little. “Well, maybe some of his incredible new hires can get things on track.”

Cas pretended to look thoughtful. “I will say that Kevin is working out great.”

Dean smiled. Cas seemed more comfortable than he would’ve expected.

Despite that, it did feel a little weird to have Cas here. Dean knew how the building looked from the outside. The parking lot had weeds growing up through cracks in the asphalt and there always seemed to be an overflow of trash at the dumpster. A lot of the windows had screens missing and some, Dean’s included, had sheets tacked over them instead of curtains. Dean knew the place wasn’t much, but he’d managed to keep it over their heads for the past three years, giving Sam one less thing to worry about so that he could focus on getting through school. Maybe Cas would be able to see that. Or maybe seeing the building in its regular state of disrepair left Cas congratulating himself for giving the drunken, crying charity case a hand up.

Moving to the kitchen, Dean set the box on the counter and then lifted the lid. Double crust apple pie. His smug confidence of a moment ago turned into a weird mixture of shame and desire. Of all the desserts he could’ve brought, he chose the one that Dean had embarrassed himself with that night. Maybe that was just a coincidence. Not sure what to do with it, he took an extra moment in fumbling the lid closed again. Back still turned, he tried to refocus. “Can I get you a drink?”

When Cas didn’t answer, Dean turned to find him standing silently as he looked around. Cas looked his way and Dean prepared to find pity in his eyes, but instead he smiled. “Yes, please.”

“Beer ok? I also have…water and chocolate milk.” Perhaps he should’ve planned ahead and gotten some sodas. He had no idea whether Cas even drank alcohol and here he was offering chocolate milk like it was a kindergarten playdate. 

“Beer is perfect.” 

Dean retrieved and opened two bottles and this time when he passed it to Cas, their fingers didn’t touch. He held his bottle too tightly as he watched Cas tip his back to take a long swallow, licking the icy droplets off his lips when he was done. 

Shit. This evening was a terrible idea.

Dean took a hurried drink himself and rushed to grab a pizza menu from a kitchen drawer. He thrust it at Cas and heard himself ramble. “Thought we’d order some pizza so just let me know what you like on yours, I’m pretty much good with anything except green olives which come straight from the devil himself.”

Cas raised one eyebrow as he took the menu. Only then did Dean realize it was grease-stained.  “You know, pizza dough is actually quite easy to make—“

“Or,” Dean said pointedly, “sometimes you could let somebody else do the work for you.”

“Pepperoni and mushroom,” Cas decided.

Dean literally bit his own tongue to stop from making some sort of sausage innuendo. “I’ll put in the order.”

Dean had pictured the group of them sitting around drinking and chatting while they waited for the pizza, but with just Cas here, Dean ordered then got the movie up and running. Cas watched with the same intensity he did everything else, and Dean found himself spending more time watching Cas out of the corner of his eye than watching the movie unfold. He was watching Cas watch Harry explore Hogwarts when the doorbell rang. Dean hopped up to answer it but Cas followed and there was a brief but awkward scuffle in front of the delivery guy when Cas pulled out his wallet and tried to pay. 

“Don’t you dare,” Dean said to Cas, grabbing for the pizza and quickly shoving a couple of bills at the guy who scurried off.

Cas looked at him, a soft look that left Dean feeling exposed. “I know what I pay you.”

“Yeah, well, if it weren’t for you doing what you did, I wouldn’t even be making that.” He set down the pizza and got out plates and napkins. 

Thankfully, Cas didn’t argue the point. “Another round?” When Dean nodded, Cas crossed to the fridge and pulled out two more beers. Dean ignored the pleased feeling he got at seeing Cas moving easily around his kitchen. 

The coffee table was small which meant they had to sit closer together on the couch as they ate. As Dean watched in amusement, Cas studied the pizza crust carefully before taking his first bite, then chewed thoughtfully. 

“Well?”

Cas’s only response was a second, huge bite. 

Harry and the gang continued their adventures while they ate and finished their second beers. Full of pizza, they both leaned back to watch. 

A while later, Dean noticed that Cas seemed unusually quiet and when he looked over, he found Cas was sound asleep, with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tipped back. Dean said his name softly, but Cas didn’t stir and Dean let himself take the opportunity to study him as he slept. His brow was lightly furrowed and his mouth turned down into a frown, chapped lips gently parted. His face was made of sharp angles, all high cheekbones and laser cut jaw but he looked softer as he slept, younger and less careworn. Dean wanted to trace the line of his jaw with a fingertip, curving along his chin and dipping into the cleft there. He imagined the feel of the stubble against his skin. Would it be rough or tickly? What about against his lips? Cas shifted in his sleep and Dean sucked in a quick breath, turning his head back toward the television before Cas could catch him creeping. 

He could see Cas moving out of the corner of his eye and just as he prepared to act like he’d never noticed that he’d dozed off, he felt a warm breath on his neck as Cas settled himself with his head on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean froze, unsure what to do. Obviously, Cas couldn’t know what he was doing, but he’d nestled himself perfectly against Dean’s side. Dean turned to assess the situation and got a face full of messy dark hair. It tickled enough that he laughed softly, trying all the while to keep still as he weighed his options. Cas got up super early so no doubt he was exhausted at the end of each day. And here Dean had plied him with beer and carbs which had basically turned him into six feet of comatose baker. Really, it would be rude to wake him when he was getting some much-needed rest. 

Resigned to his fate as pillow, Dean relaxed a little. It might be embarrassing when Cas woke up, but they’d just deal with it. Cas stayed put for another ten or so minutes and then he started to stir, muttering a little and smacking his lips. Dean braced for plausible deniability as he sat straight up again, but a second later he swayed back toward Dean, and this time he made himself comfortable with his head in Dean’s lap. 

Dean’s arms flew up into the air in surprise and he sat there with them at shoulder height looking down at this new turn of events. Finally, he reached for the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and spread it over as much of Cas as he could reach. He let one hand drop gently to Cas’s shoulder. The other hand he flexed in the air for a bit, working up his nerve until he brought it down to touch the tips of Cas’s hair where it was standing straight up. He brushed his fingers through one tiny bit of it before retreating his hand to the safety of the couch arm. With Cas breathing rhythmically, it was easy for Dean to lean his head back and close his own eyes. 

 

[](https://ibb.co/jfT52b)

[ ](https://ibb.co/jfT52b)

He may have dozed for a bit himself because he jerked when he heard Sam unlocking the front door. Moving quickly, he worked himself out from under Cas and hightailed it to the kitchen before Sam made it inside. He caught Sam’s eye and put a finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of the couch, where Cas still slept. Closing the door softly, Sam tiptoed to the kitchen. 

“Just walk like a regular human, you dork.”

Sam paused to scowl at him. “That your boss?”

“Yeah, that’s Cas.”

Sam reached for a slice of leftover pizza. “You’re so boring that he fell asleep on your date?”

“It’s not a—“ Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Dean was distracted from finishing. Cas was sitting up now. Dean couldn’t see his face from where he stood, but his hair was a glorious wreck and Dean felt his fingers twitching involuntarily. When Cas turned a bleary face toward them, Dean couldn’t help smiling. “Hey, you want some—“

“I have to go.” Cas was on his feet, stopping only to shove his feet in his shoes at the door. Voice rough with sleep, he directed a hello at Sam and a thank you at Dean and then he was gone. 

“Damn,” Sam said, still chewing. 

“Shut up.” 

Sam grabbed another piece of pizza before disappearing to his room. Dean finished cleaning up the kitchen, putting the box with the still-intact pie into the refrigerator. Then he picked up the blanket from where Cas had left it in a pile on the floor. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect the next time he saw Cas. Did he know he’d been lying in Dean’s lap? That would be embarrassing enough, but what if he remembered Dean basically petting his hair? Maybe he’d figured out Dean’s crush on him. Dean knew better than to expect that his feeling might be returned but he liked the friendship they’d somehow developed and the last thing he wanted was to make Cas so uncomfortable that they reverted back to their earlier distance. 

As it was, Cas acted perfectly normal at work the next morning. Well, as normal as someone who apologized for “being rude in the face of your hospitality” could be. He also solemnly promised to re-watch the part that he’d missed on his own, as if it were a homework assignment he’d gotten back marked ‘incomplete’. Dean wondered if that meant no more movie get-togethers, but he barely had time to dwell on it because the following week graduation rolled up on Dean like it was chasing him.

Graduation was a two part event: an award ceremony during the day followed by the actual commencement Friday evening, so Bobby, Ellen, and Jo made plans to drive down from Sioux Falls Thursday evening to spend the night at a nearby motel.

With Friday off, Dean looked forward to sleeping in and he set two alarms to ensure he wouldn’t oversleep. It proved unnecessary, though, as he woke up within ten minutes of his normal work alarm. With no reason to rush out the door, he made himself some coffee and sat stiffly on the couch trying to enjoy the quiet morning before the festivities. In a few hours, Dean would swing by the motel to pick everyone up, and he was anxious to see them. It was more than the fact that an event this big would feel incomplete without them there. Dean needed the stability and calm that being surrounded by family would give him because, once Sam put on that cap and gown, there could be no denying that he’d soon be leaving.

Dean got up to refill his cup. It occurred to him that he wasn’t missing his own father today. Maybe other kids would’ve felt abandoned when their dad left them for long stretches, but Dean had only ever felt safe as he watched John drive away. Sioux Falls had felt like home and Bobby’s house was the only place he could take in a full breath. 

Bobby was gruff and blunt and never anything but kind to the boys, even when Dean hadn’t deserved it. Dean knew he’d been difficult, knew he’d put up so many walls between himself and Sam and the rest of the world. Bobby never pushed him, he was steady and solid and waited each time for Dean to let down his guard and come around. It was an openness that grew easier the longer John stayed gone. 

Bobby did his best to keep Dean in school, but that was an uphill battle so he’d insisted Dean find work. Ellen had taken a chance on him, hiring him on at the Roadhouse to wash dishes and mop floors before he worked his way up to line cook. In Bobby and Ellen, Dean had surrogate parents, and in Jo he had the bratty little sister he couldn’t shake no matter how he tried. It was a found family that became even closer when Bobby and Ellen finally gave in to the spark they’d been denying for years. 

When John died, Dean longed to move back to Sioux Falls, back to the one place that had been a constant for him, but Sam felt strongly about staying in Lawrence. He’d just completed his freshman year, thriving under the guidance of some great teachers, and didn’t want to change schools yet again. Sam had been uprooted so many times and, unlike Dean, he felt the need to plant himself in one place, gathering people to him. Dean had only ever needed Sam; the where of it had never mattered. What did matter was that Dean was nineteen and able to become Sam’s legal guardian. If he wanted to stay in Lawrence, they’d stay. 

Bobby and Ellen were disappointed, but they understood and, even from six hours away, they kept close tabs on “the boys”. Ellen and Bobby called at regular intervals because God forbid they learn how to text, and while Dean grumbled about having to use his phone as an actual phone, he looked forward to those calls. Many an evening was spent filling them in on Sam’s latest accomplishments as Dean cleaned up the apartment after dinner. 

The quiet morning turned into a flurry of activity. Sam had to be at school early, but mid-morning Dean drove to the motel to pick them all up. His heart swelled a little at seeing Bobby in a suit, the one he usually wore for funerals. Even Jo was dressed up for the occasion.

"Wait, you're a girl?" Dean acted surprised to see her in an actual dress.

"Fuck off," she said cheerily. "I look amazing."

"Don't start, you two." Ellen hugged Dean tightly then stepped back to give him a once over. "You doing alright? You look thin."

"There's literally no way that's possible," Dean assured her. "I practically get paid in pastries." If anything the khakis that served as his dress pants were a little tight, a development that probably went along with the fact that he could now distinguish the difference between buttercream and royal icing.

Once they were all in the car, Bobby smoothed his tie. "The things I do for you boys."

Dean laughed even as his throat tightened. This wasn't even a drop in the bucket compared to all he'd done for them over the years. "You can change in between, if you want."

"Remind me why they do it this way?"

"Because otherwise you'd have to sit there for four hours," Dean said. "And if Sam weren't such an overachieving nerd, we'd only have to go tonight."

"I totally blame Sam," Jo said. "Why can't he slack like the rest of us?"

Ellen smacked at her lightly. "You could follow his example."

"You could follow his example," Jo mocked in a high pitched voice. "No thanks, I'd rather have a life."

Dean took one hand off the wheel and reached over the seat to high-five her.

*

The awards ceremony was held in the auditorium and Dean led them to a row of seats as close to the front as they could get. The students didn’t wear their caps and gowns for this part, but Sam was in a new pair of slacks and a dress shirt. He’d grown yet again and even the clothes he’d been able to wear last fall were too small for him. Once they got settled, Jo found and pointed out Sam’s name listed multiple times in the program and sure enough Sam was called to the stage for Honor Society plus something for his grade point average and SAT score as well as a special award for debate which, having lived with him, Dean wasn’t surprised at all to see him get. His friends cheered and hollered for him, and Dean cheered right along with them, proud as could be.  Afterwards, Sam hugged them all and let Bobby slap him on the back while Ellen fussed with his hair. Even Jo’s _not bad I guess_ came out mostly sincere. 

To fill the gap of time before the evening ceremony, they were all coming back to Dean’s place to hang out and eat. On Sam’s request, Dean had made a lasagna that only needed to be thrown into the oven. He’d made arrangements with Cas to go pick up the cake at three o’clock, after the bakery had closed for the day. Back at the apartment (which was as clean as it was going to get), it did Dean’s heart good to see Bobby snoozing on the couch as Ellen grilled Sam about his plans. Jo had changed back into the jeans she had stuffed in her backpack and sat cross-legged on the floor working on homework. Sam couldn’t resist taunting her a little. 

“Wow, I remember doing high school homework,” he said, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Glad I never have to do that again.”

“It was three days ago, you jerk,” Jo said. 

“I vaguely recall it…” Sam stared off into space as if pulling up the memory. 

“Oh sure. Mock me now, but I’m not the one who’s gonna get my ass absolutely walloped at Stanford.”

Sam managed a laugh, but Dean could see from the way he paled a little that the blow had landed.

“You’ll do fine,” Dean said. “You’ve got to be the nerdiest one there for sure.” Sam smiled and Dean couldn’t resist adding, “And if you flunk out, you can come back here and work at the Gas N Sip.”

“Oooh yeah,” Jo said. “Those blue vests are lit.”

“You all suck,” Sam muttered, backtracking quickly when Ellen raised her eyebrows at him. “Not you, of course, Ellen.” 

Bobby snorted himself fully awake. “Not me either.”

Dean checked his watch. “I’m gonna run and pick up the cake. It won’t take me long.”

“I wish I could come see the bakery,” Jo said, but Ellen pointed back to her books. 

“You promised me you’d use this time to work if I let you miss school.”

"Junior year _is_ the most important," Sam told her, with all the self importance being a year older afforded him. 

“It’s not that exciting,” Dean assured her. “Besides, it’s closed now.” For whatever reason, Dean was glad nobody was coming along. He wouldn’t have minded showing them around and introducing them around, but the last thing he needed was for one of them to casually ask how he got the job. Knowing Cas, he’d probably answer truthfully. 

Besides, Dean needed a little bit of time to himself and the walk there and back would do the trick. 

He opened the door to leave and stopped short at seeing Cas standing there. Dean checked his watch again even though he knew it was only 2:45. “I was just on my way to the bakery. Didn’t we say 3:00?”

“Yes, but I was experimenting a little with design and it turned out that the cake didn’t fit into any of the boxes, so I brought it over on a baking sheet.” He indicated the tray held in both of his hands. 

Dean moved out of the doorway. “C’mon in.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Cas began, but he was interrupted when Sam caught sight of him. 

“Hi! Oh my God, is that the cake? This is by far the best job Dean’s ever had.”

Once he was in the door, Dean had no choice but to introduce him to everyone. Bobby even got up off the couch to shake his hand and Jo had a look on her face that told Dean that she thought Cas was every bit as hot at he did. 

They gathered around, clamoring to see the cake so Cas carefully uncovered it. A small roar of impressed appreciation went up when it was revealed that he’d recreated the entire Stanford logo in cake form. Cas kept his eyes on the cake, but Dean could tell that he was pleased by the reaction. 

“I’ll let you get back to your family time. Congratulations, Sam.”

After another round of thanks and goodbyes, Dean followed him to the door. “I’ll walk you out.” They went down the steps to the parking lot and walked together toward Cas’s car. “Thanks for bringing it by. Hope that wasn’t too overwhelming.”

‘Not at all. But I didn’t quite catch how they’re related to you.”

“Bobby is an old family friend who helped raised us. And we’ve known Jo and Ellen since we were kids.” Dean explained. “But they’re closer to me than anyone, other than Sam.”

Cas nodded. “So they aren’t your real family.”

“If you mean by blood, they’re not. But they are my real family,” Dean answered, a little defensively. “They’re who I want to share all the good things with and the first ones I call when things get rough. That’s family.”

Cas looked apologetic, his blue eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to insinuate they weren’t. My own family is large, but other than Gabriel, I don’t feel that way about them. You’re lucky to have them and I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”

“I hope so.” They stood in silence for a bit but Cas didn’t make any move to take out his keys. “Thanks for going out of your way to bring it by.”

“I’m glad he was pleased with the design. You’ve mentioned that he likes fruit, so I put a raspberry filling between the layers.”

Dean almost got misty-eyed at Cas remembering; Sam definitely brought out the best in people. Since Cas was staring at him, Dean pulled himself together, blinking hard a couple of times. “I won’t keep you. Thanks again, man.” 

Cas stopped him with a hand to his wrist. Dean found himself looking down at Cas’s long fingers where they rested on Dean’s bare skin before finally meeting his eyes. “It’s best if you can keep it in the refrigerator until about an hour before you serve it.”

Dean almost laughed. He gave those instructions nearly every day to people picking up cakes. “Got it. See ya, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean walked a couple of steps backwards until he pictured himself tripping and landing on his ass in the parking lot. He nodded a last goodbye and headed back to the staircase that led to his apartment door. By the time he got back upstairs, Jo was in the kitchen. 

“Screw the lasagna, let’s have that for dinner.”

Dean worked on clearing out a space in the fridge for it. “Hand it over and nobody gets hurt.”

“Do you get to bring home stuff every day?”

“Nah, I mean there’s generally stuff for us to eat, broken cookies or things that Cas isn’t happy with, but he donates the unsold stuff to the senior center.” He felt strangely proud sharing that, like somehow it was a reflection on him. 

“He probably just says that and eats it himself. That’s what I would do.”

“Cas is cool,” Sam pronounced. “Dean had him over to hang out one night.”

Jo looked gleeful. “Oooooh, Netflix and chill?”

Despite the open fridge, Dean felt his face heat up. “That sounds like a good way to get fired.” He knew what was coming next before Sam even opened his high-achieving mouth. 

“Yeah, Dean was such scintillating company that Cas fell asleep.”

“Ok, Mister AP English, we’re all very impressed with your vocabulary. Now go see if Ellen wants some more iced tea.”

“What are you going to do without your personal slave?” Jo asked, leaning against the counter.

Dean pushed down the thought of Sam being gone, something he was getting quite good at. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Dinner was noisy and fun. They polished off almost the entire pan of lasagna and Dean felt fine as long as he was busy keeping everyone’s plates filled. 

“You barely ate yourself, son,” Ellen pointed out when he got up from the table to refill the plate of garlic bread. 

“I eat my own cooking all the time,” he reassured her. “It’s nice to have guests.” And it was. The apartment felt loud and cramped and Dean tried to soak it in instead of dwelling on how different it would be when it was only him here, living alone. He managed another few bites of his dinner because he knew Ellen’s eagle eyes were on him, but no matter how much he chewed, it felt nearly impossible to swallow. With his plate unfinished he checked his watch and jumped up again. “If we don’t want to rush, we’d better get this cake cut.”

It seemed like there should be a candle to blow out or something to mark the occasion, but that was dumb because there was an entire ceremony happening after dinner to do just that. Still, he stood at the counter with the knife in his hand for so long that Jo accused him of sneaking extra for himself. Finally he carried the cake to the table where Bobby cleared a space so he could set it down in front of Sam. 

Dean handed him the knife. “You do the honors.”

“Thanks, you guys, for coming down for this. It means a lot to me that you’re here.” Everyone beamed at him, Dean included. He’d wanted this for Sam, wanted him to have a family that showed up for the important things, and here they were. “And Dean, I can’t thank you enough…” he started, turning those damn puppy eyes on his brother which made a lump build in Dean’s throat. 

He swallowed thickly around it and gestured at the cake. “No chick flick moments.”

Sam gave him a shiny-eyed smile and cut into the cake. “I get the first piece.”

*

Dean thought his chest would burst with pride when he saw his brother cross the stage in his cap and gown. He stood and whooped as Sam flipped the tassel from one side to the other then shook the superintendent’s hand. Jo was in charge of taking pictures and Dean reminded her three times to send them to him. Afterwards, there was more hugging and picture taking. From faithfully attending each back to school night, he recognized some of Sam’s teachers at the ceremony and was pleased to see Sam’s favorite history teacher come and hug him, before shaking Dean’s hand as well.

Dean saw some of the moms openly crying, dabbing at their carefully made-up faces with tissues. He felt a pang of missing his own mom, even though she’d been gone for so long that it probably seemed to Sam that she’d never been there. But Dean remembered. Remembered her kindness and softness and her gentle way with both boys. He was sure she’d be the kind to fuss over her baby, bragging about him to everyone she saw. She would’ve bought a Stanford sweatshirt by now, wearing it all around town. Even his dad would’ve been proud in his own messed-up way. He wouldn’t had known how to show it but Dean was sure he’d have used it as an excuse to go out and celebrate on his own, bellowing about his son’s accomplishment. 

Dean would’ve steered clear of his dad when that happened because there was only one way for that to end. Any pride in Sam came hand in hand with renewed disappointment in his other son, and Dean didn’t need a repeat performance of all of the ways he’d let the family down. Dean didn’t carry rosy illusions that everything would have been perfect had his mom lived, but maybe his dad wouldn’t have turned so hopeless and mean if he’d been able to look at his boys without seeing a reminder of what he’d lost. Dean shook his head to clear it, bringing himself back to the rowdy celebration at hand. He could never undo what John had done but he’d tried to make up for it, giving Sam what he could. Looking at Sam, beaming in his cap and gown, Dean thought maybe he’d done all right.

Less than an hour after the ceremony, Dean was alone in the apartment. Bobby, Ellen, and Jo had piled back in the truck to make the drive home. Sam had dashed home to change before heading out with his friends, leaving his nice clothes and his gown tossed on the bed. In the quiet apartment, Dean changed into jeans and took some time to finish cleaning up what they hadn’t gotten to after dinner. He washed the lasagna pan that he’d left soaking then wiped off the table. He put what was left of the cake onto a dinner plate then washed the metal baking sheet, taking extra care with it, even though he knew it would have to be re-washed and sanitized in the triple sinks when he took it back to work with him.  

With that done, he sat on the couch and scrolled through the pictures Jo had taken. He chose a couple of the best ones to send to Benny. The reply came almost immediately.

_That’s awesome! Congrats!! Come meet me and we’ll celebrate._

Benny texted a pic of himself holding up a beer at a place they frequented. Dean smiled at the screen, looking at the pool table in the background, and considered it. It was absolutely a day for celebrating but he wasn’t feeling the whole bar scene tonight.

**Thanks but I’m gonna chill.**

_You sure? First round’s on me._

**Have one for me.**

He’d been so focused on the graduation itself, cooking and cleaning and preparing, that now he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He switched on the tv but the voices only reminded him that everyone was gone. Switching it off with a sigh, he got up to get a beer from the refrigerator. In the kitchen, the baking sheet glinted in the overhead light. Before he could think too much about what he was doing, he grabbed his keys and the pan and left the apartment.

After the stuffy heat of the overcrowded high school gym, even the warm evening air felt cool and refreshing. He walked the six blocks to the bakery on autopilot and it wasn’t until he stood outside the front door that he remembered he needed to go around to the back of the building where the door to Cas’s apartment was. Once there, he didn’t give himself time to second guess his decision, just pushed the buzzer by the door. A moment later, a light turned on and he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

Cas looked a little surprised to see him but all he said was, “Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, I, uh brought back your pan.” Dean held it out like Cas wouldn’t see it otherwise. Cas tilted his head and regarded both Dean and the pan. He wiggled the pan a little but Cas didn’t reach for it so Dean let his arm drop to his side. “I guess I could’ve waited until I came to work in the morning.” 

“Would you like to come in?”

Everything Dean should’ve considered before embarking on the errand came flooding back in. It was Friday night. It was late. Dean had just showed up at his boss’s house unannounced. But the truth was, he didn’t want to go back home where the empty apartment would mock him. “I don’t want to bother you…”

Cas had every right to say _I’ll see you at work tomorrow_ but instead he held the door open and said, “Please come up.” 

Dean followed him up the stairs and into the apartment which was surprisingly spacious. It was furnished with simple but solid furniture. Cas led him to the living room where there was a couch and a leather recliner and a glass topped coffee table. The big screen tv was off, but soft music was playing. Cas had things like matching lamps and area rugs and potted plants. He took the tray from Dean and set it on the granite countertop in the open kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Dean could definitely use a drink, a number of them, really, but he wasn’t about to do that in front of Cas so he shook his head. Cas sat on the couch and gestured for him to sit so Dean sat carefully on the recliner. His mind raced with how he could explain why he was there and the only thing that came out of his mouth was. “I hope you don’t mind that I came by. I got your address from your personnel file.”

Cas smiled at that, a wide one with nose crinkles and Dean found himself smiling back. He didn’t see that look on his boss’s face that often and it was pretty damn gratifying to have caused it. “How was graduation?”

“It was good. I mean, it was pretty long and some of it was boring, but it was good. Sam’s out with his friends, now.” It came out a little more bitterly than Dean intended. 

“Did your company leave?”

“Yeah. Ellen runs a bar and she couldn’t give up the whole weekend.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is. I used to work there when we lived in Sioux Falls and believe me, your clientele is a lot easier. I’ve yet to have to break up a fight in the bakery.”

“Maybe I should bake half as many cinnamon rolls and see what happens.”

Dean laughed. “You do that and you’re on your own.”

There was a long pause after that. Dean found himself twisting his fingers, trying to figure out what to say next. 

Cas stepped in to carry the conversation. “It’s nice that Sam has friends to celebrate with. My graduation night consisted of a prayer service and a family dinner that required a suit and tie.”

Dean could feel his eyes grow wide. “Are you serious?”

Cas nodded. “Family tradition.”

“That sounds…special,” Dean ventured.

“It was entirely as fun as you’re imagining.”

“Was there cake at least?”

Cas shook his head. “Pre-packaged angel food cake and fresh fruit.”

“Jesus,” Dean said, shuddering. “Were you being punished?”

“Always,” Cas said. 

“You’re the youngest?” 

“Next to youngest, I have a little sister still in high school. But three older siblings.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Cas said. “So, Stanford, huh? You must be very proud.”

“I am,” Dean said firmly. “I am…it’s what he wanted.”

“And you?”

Maybe it was the way Cas looked at him with a calm, nonjudgmental gaze that caused Dean to let the story spill out. He half-wondered if this was what it was like to go to therapy. “It’s just that there are lots of good schools, you know? He had a whole list to apply to, including KU and Wash U which is only four hours away but then he decided to apply early decision to Stanford, do you know what that is?”

Cas nodded. “It’s a binding decision upon acceptance.”

“Exactly. He did it without telling me and he said it was because he didn’t think he’d get in but guess what?” Dean shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral.

“It’s quite the accomplishment.”

“It is. it absolutely is. And getting into Stanford would still be an accomplishment even if he didn’t go there.”

“You wish he would stay closer.”

“It’s not like I would’ve made him live at home or something. It would just be nice to know I could see him now and then, without an 1800 mile drive. Even just getting him home for like, Thanksgiving is next to impossible, but he doesn’t seem to care.”

“It’s tricky,” Cas said carefully. “I stayed close to home for college and that had it’s own difficulties.”

Dean was glad to turn the conversation from his own complaining. “Yeah?” 

“Well, first off, my parents made me move in with my brother.”

Dean raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Gabe?”

“Yes. And it was just as awful as you’d think. I spent a lot of time covering for him when my parents called. They actually believed me when I told them he was at the library on weekend evenings.”

Huffing out a laugh, Dean said, “I guess parents hear what they want to believe.”

“I suppose. They had everything planned out for us, classes and majors. We were all expected to get our accounting degrees and join the family business.”

Dean thought of something that had never occurred to him before. “Gabe is an accountant?”

Cas laughed. “Yes. I’m sure it wasn’t his dream, but it was guaranteed employment and, well, he always likes the path of least resistance.”

“So you’re the black sheep, huh?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t go over well when I decided not to go to graduate school.”

“Wait, you need to go to grad school to be an accountant?”

“My parents wanted us all to have degrees in actuarial science.”

Dean didn’t even know what the hell that meant but it didn’t sound like a barrel of laughs. “I mean, it’s nice that there’s even a family business, something already in place that you could count on,” Dean said, thinking of his own half-feral upbringing. He would’ve welcomed that sort of security net. “But I guess if it’s not what you wanted to do…”

Cas shrugged. “My mother threatened to cut me off when I made my decision, so following my passion came with a price. I go home for major holidays now and that’s about it.”

Dean considered his own patchwork family. At least they supported each other through thick and thin. “That’s gotta be rough.”

“It’s for the best,” Cas said cooly. 

There was a long moment of silence while Dean fidgeted with his watch band before catching sight of the time. He jumped to his feet. “It’s late. I should go.” 

Cas walked him back downstairs. He stood in the doorway as Dean stepped out into the night. The stark light above the door cast him half in shadow, accentuating the angles of his face and washing his blue eyes into deep gray. There was no sound other than the clamor of night insects and a single car making its way down the street.

“Thanks again for the cake and…everything.”

He waited until Cas had closed the door and switched off the light before starting for home. 


	6. Chapter 6

A week or so later, Dean was behind the counter when he heard the chime of the door. A middle-aged woman with her hair back in a neat bun walked through, stopping to take in the entire set-up of the bakery. New customer, then. Dean knew just how to appeal to these first-timers. 

“Welcome to Jimmy’s!” She turned toward him with a laser focus that surprised him. Scowling a little, she approached the counter. “Would you like to sample our Missouri Bar? It’s the owner’s trademark. He calls it a little piece of his childhood.” 

She looked at him stone-faced and he floundered a little, scrabbling to slide the case open to retrieve the sample. He carefully wrapped one in a piece of tissue and held it out with the brightest smile he could muster. Her gaze traveled from the bar in his hand back to his face. “Is Castiel here?”

Dean was still holding out the bar. Slowly, he pulled his hand back in. “Uh, yeah. He’s in the back.”

If anything, her glare intensified. 

“I’ll go get him.”

Still clutching the bar, he pushed through the swinging door to where Cas was kneading some dough on the counter top. There was no time to appreciate the way the ropy muscles of his forearms flexed as he worked the dough. At least not very much time.

“Hey, Cas. There’s a woman here to see you.”

Cas dug the heel of his hand into the dough. “Who is it?”

It occurred to Dean now that he hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered. He’d simply gone to do her bidding. “She didn’t say.”

Cas stopped kneading and looked up at him. “What does she look like?”

Dean thought of all the things he could say: pantsuit, sensible heels…instead his hand drifted to his throat and he said, “She made me feel like I should be wearing a tie.”

“Shit,” Cas hissed, standing up and wiping his hands on his apron. Then he yanked it off and started to tuck in his shirt. He drew in a deep breath and went still for a moment, then untucked his shirt again.

Charlie stuck her head through the door, looking pale. “Cas, there’s some—“

“Yes, I know. I’m coming.” 

Dean followed him back out into the bakery, sidling over to stand off to the side next to Charlie.

“Hello, Mother,” Cas said, keeping the bakery case between them. 

Dean and Charlie’s heads swiveled in unison as they looked at each other, making sure they’d both heard that. 

“Castiel.” She held up a large, cream-colored envelope.

Cas squinted at it suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“It’s the invitation to your sister’s confirmation. Since you refuse to answer the phone when I call, I thought it best to hand deliver it.”

She could have easily taken a few steps forward to set the envelope down on the glass counter. Instead, she continued to hold it out until Cas, as if he were on a string, stepped out from around the counter to pluck it from her hand. 

The tension was heavy in the air and never had Dean wished more for that bell above the door to chime with a new customer, anything to distract them and set them all back into motion. As the moment stretched out, however, it seemed not even a car drove down the street outside the big glass window. 

Maybe it was the tension that caused Dean to speak. He couldn’t believe this woman hadn’t even acknowledged her son’s bakery. She hadn’t been able to spare a single word of reaction to all of his hard work. Maybe she’d do better with something other than words. 

“Sure you don’t want to try the Missouri Bar, ma’am?” It was a little smooshed from being held tightly in his hand, but he held it up again anyhow. 

Cas’s mom threw him a withering look. “No, thank you.” She turned back to her son. “I’ll expect you there on the seventeenth. Please come dressed appropriately.” Moving with cool confidence, she strode out the door. They all stood in silence until her retreating back disappeared. 

Dean let out a long breath. “She’s…a little scary.”

Cas slapped the envelope down onto the counter and rubbed at his forehead. “Dean.”

“Yes?”

“Missouri was the nanny.”

Dean heard Charlie whisper _yikes_.

“Sorry, man,” Dean muttered. He considered the bar in his hand, then shrugged to himself and took a large bite.

“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.” 

“So…” Charlie began slowly. “Are you gonna go?”

Cas answered in clipped tones meant to put an end to the conversation. “It’s complicated.”

“k,” Charlie replied. “I’ll just finish sweeping up.” She retrieved the broom from where she’d left it and headed off to the furthest corner of the bakery. 

Cas stomped back through the swinging door, pushing it with unnecessary force. Dean dodged the recoil and then followed him into the back so that he could further apologize. He’d always assumed Cas grew up in Missouri and, well, no point in mentioning that now.

“How dare she show up here uninvited, judging everything and telling me what to do like I’m a child.”

From the way he was pounding the dough into submission, Dean wasn’t sure Cas even knew he was standing there. He got that Cas was rattled by having his mother appear out of the blue like that. But something about this whole thing didn’t sit right with him. None of this was his business, Dean reminded himself. The smartest thing to do was walk back out, give Cas and his dough some alone time, and apologize later when things had calmed down. He had one arm outstretched to push the door open when Cas spoke again. 

“She can’t possibly think I’m going to do anything she says.”

Hands curled into fists, Dean whirled back around. “Yeah, but it’s your sister.”

“What?”

“Your sister. It’s a big event for her.”

Cas turned back to the dough. “She won’t care.”

“Does she get along with your mom?”

Cas made a scoffing noise. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s shitty that you’ve abandoned her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s stuck there and you’re so busy spiting your mother that you can’t be bothered to be there for her.”

Eyes blazing, Cas got to his feet and stepped toward Dean. “Don’t act like you know me or my family.” Dean started to put his hands up to ease the tension. He’d crossed the line for sure. But Cas wasn’t done yet. “My mother never understood me. Never even tried to.”

Without warning, Dean was flooded with anger. “Boo-fucking-hoo.”  Stunned by Dean’s reaction, Cas stopped his approach. “Mommy didn’t understand me. It must have been so hard to have her there looking after your best interest, wanting you to have a solid career.”

“Look, here.” Cas was right in his personal space now, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You have no right—“

Dean pushed his hand away. “Must be nice to always get to do what you want. Now and then you oughta try doing what you should.” 

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked right through the bakery and out the front door. He was halfway down the block before he registered the rain and realized he’d left his coat at Jimmy’s. Defiantly, he continued walking away, refusing to even shove his hands into his jeans pockets for warmth. Cas was being a spoiled brat. He had no idea how good he’d had it with an intact family and two parents who’d wanted what was best for him. Dean would’ve given anything for that. He could damn well bet that Cas had never had to worry about whether he’d have breakfast before school. Most likely his biggest problem would have been the nanny making him French toast when he wanted pancakes. 

Cas had a sister minutes away and he couldn’t be bothered to make time for her. Sam was going to be 1800 miles away in a matter of weeks and there wasn’t a damn thing Dean could do about it. Dean felt that sharp flare of anxiety in his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs and making his heart race. With a flat hand, he smacked the next light post he passed, hard enough for the pain to distract him away from the anxiety. Rubbing at his throbbing palm with the other hand, he continued walking, his pace slowing as his outrage dwindled. 

He was probably going to get fired now and who the fuck could blame Cas? In the couple of months they’d known each other, Dean had crossed just about every line there was to cross. He’d caused nothing but trouble for the guy since the very moment they’d met and he’d run out of chances a long time ago. With his anger subsiding, he knew he owed Cas a big apology but he was still too pissed to turn around and go back. It would have to wait until tomorrow. 

Sam was already home, as evidenced by the fact that Dean tripped over his giant shoes as soon as he walked in the door. Swearing, he picked one up and threw it across the room. The clunk it made when it hit the far wall was enough to bring Sam out of his bedroom. 

“A million times, Sam. A million fucking times I’ve told you to move your stupid clown shoes out of the way.”

Scooping up the one from the living room, Sam hurried to collect the other one from the door. “Sorry.” He clutched both shoes to his chest. “You ok?”

_No_ , Dean thought. _I am not ok. I fucked up for a change and I’m probably going to get fired and what do you care since you’ll be out of here in no time_. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved a cork in all of that. “I’m fine. Just tired.” Sam made to move back towards his room, then hesitated, like he wanted to stay and say supportive things but he had other pressing matters. Dean knew that look. League of Legends. “In the middle of a match?”

“Yeah, we’re—“

Dean waved a hand at him. “Go finish that.”

Sam threw him a grateful look and disappeared into his room. 

Dean closed himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon but eventually he had to get dinner started. It helped to have something to do and he felt a bit better once he had meatballs browning in a skillet while a pot full of salted water came to a boil for spaghetti. He didn’t have his usual music playing while he cooked, because he was too deep in his own head trying to figure out what he’d say to Cas in the morning. After a lot of focused thought he’d gotten as far as _Hey, Cas_ when he heard a knock at the apartment door. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel he had slung over his shoulder, he checked the peephole only to find Cas, with his mouth pressed into a tight line. Ok, so he’d come to deliver the news that Dean was being let go in person. Efficient of him, really. _At least I can sleep in tomorrow_ , he thought grimly.

Dean opened the door just as Cas raised his hand to knock a second time. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Only then did Dean notice that Cas had Dean’s jacket. Well, that made sense. He wouldn’t want Dean returning to the bakery for any reason. He held it up. “It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow so I thought you might want this.”

Dean took the jacket from him just as he heard the pot boil over. “Come in,” he said, tossing it over the back of the couch to dash back toward the stove without waiting to see if Cas was following. He turned off the burner under the water and checked the meatballs before turning the heat down under those as well. 

Cas stood just inside the front door looking as miserable as Dean felt. Dean sucked in a big breath and went over to him. Maybe he could salvage this to the point that Cas wouldn’t just laugh bitterly when future employers called him for a reference.

“I’m sorry about what I said before. You and your family…that’s none of my business. Besides, you worked so hard to build that bakery on your own and—“

“Dean, stop.”

“Sorry,” Dean said again. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I was angry because everything you said was true and I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Wait, what?” Dean had to be hearing something wrong. No way was Cas taking the blame here.

“And I didn’t exactly build it on my own. When my mother realized I wasn’t going to become an accountant, she was angry. She threatened to cut me off completely. But eventually, mostly thanks to Gabriel’s intervention, she…” Cas trailed off, then dropped his gaze to the floor. “She gave me the money she would’ve spent on graduate school to put toward the bakery.”

“Wait, _what_?”

Cas looked at him with big sad eyes and Dean couldn’t help it, he threw back his head and laughed. He laughed until tears ran out of his eyes. Watching him laugh, Cas went from sad to annoyed and then he started to laugh as well. Sam came out to see what was happening. 

He looked between them with concern. “What’s so funny?”

“Your brother is not impressed with my tale of hardship,” Cas said when he’d managed enough of a breath to speak. 

Pulling himself together, Dean waved a hand weakly in his direction. “No, no, tell me more. Did you suffer with subpar thread count too? Non-organic fruit?”

“You guys are weird,” Sam announced. “Is dinner going to be ready soon?”

Cas sobered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”

“Not at all,” Dean said before turning to Sam. “Gimme like fifteen more minutes.”

“Ok. Is Cas staying for dinner?”

Dean shrugged and tried to look casual. “Ask him.”

Sam gave him the puppy eyes. Cas caved. Dean smiled and went back to the stove. 

Dean wouldn’t let Cas help since he was the guest but he hovered near the kitchen counter as Sam threw together a salad and Dean finished cooking. He’d used a pound of ground beef for the meatballs so he added an extra half package of spaghetti to help stretch things. He went light on his own serving of meatballs to make sure Cas had a decent amount and that there would be enough for Sam to inevitably have seconds. 

They didn’t often have people for dinner, and Dean had to hurriedly clear a stack of mail and a couple of Sam’s books from a chair so he’d have a place to sit. 

Cas apologized when they sat down. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t know I’d be eating here.”

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean assured him. “You wanna say grace?” He laughed at the perplexed squint he received. “Oh my God, I’m kidding. Nothing but heathens here, right, Sammy?”

“For sure,” Sam said around a mouthful of pasta. “Although I did go to a bar mitzvah in seventh grade. That was cool.”

“Pretty sure I’d burst into flames if I walked into a church,” Dean said proudly, and Sam nodded his agreement.

“I spent so many hours in church. Each one seemed a lot more interminable once I realized I was gay.”

Dean choked on his meatball. Sam looked up from his plate in concern. 

“Alright?” Cas asked.

“Wrong pipe,” Dean managed hoarsely, his mind spinning. “You were saying?”

“It’s one thing to sit in church for endless hours even when you’re a believer. It’s quite another to realize that the entire foundation of the church would cast you out if they knew your secret.”

“You’re gay?” Sam’s plate was already empty and he piled it high with salad.

Cas flicked a look in Dean’s direction. “I am.”

“That’s cool. Dean’s bi.”

Dean felt his face heat and the weight of Cas’s stare was nearly palpable. Sam didn’t even bother to stop shoveling salad into his face. “Sam, you can’t just—” 

“Are there more meatballs?” Sam pushed back his chair to go look. 

“I swear, that kid could eat his own body weight in ground beef,” Dean said, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. 

“There was a case of a man in the late 1700s who actually did that,” Cas said, twirling some pasta expertly on his fork. 

“Impossible,” Sam said. Dean noted with satisfaction that his plate was full again. 

“His name was Tarrare,” Cas said. “Look him up. His eating habits were so bizarre that he was hospitalized and studied. He used to eat live cats and lizards. He was eventually discharged from the hospital after they suspected that he’d eaten a baby.” Cas said all of this as if he were talking about his weekend plans. 

Dean set down his fork. “He ate a baby?”

Cas quirked an eyebrow. “Allegedly.”

“How do you know about this?” Sam’s eyes gleamed with interest.

“I learned about him in a history class I took in college.”

Sam excitedly began peppering Cas with questions about college while Dean finished eating. Then, with the two of them still deep in conversation, he got up to clear the table. He had most everything cleaned up by the time they were done talking and he waved off Cas’s offer of help but didn’t let Sam get out of wiping off the table and sweeping the floor. Sam was still sweeping when Cas put his jacket back on. 

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Thanks for coming by and…sorry again.”

Cas smiled at him. “Poor little gay boy in the church? Still no sympathy?”

Dean pretended to consider. “Maybe a little. “  
  
“See you tomorrow, Dean.”

*

A few days later, Gabe showed up at Jimmy’s in the middle of a rush. He sidestepped the line to come behind the counter and Dean breathed a sigh of relief at the promise of an extra pair of hands. Instead, he grabbed a bakery tissue and went right for the tray of cinnamon rolls to scan the contents before selecting the biggest, stickiest one. Taking a large chomp out of it, he winked at Dean and disappeared into the back. 

Dean was washing mixing bowls when Gabe came in the back door, clearly having been up in Cas’s apartment. “Dean-o, take five.”

Dean eyed the stack he had left, then turned off the water and dried his hands. “What’s up?”

“I understand you had the Naomi Milton experience.”

Dean snorted. “Up close and personal.”

“So you know how Cas gets around her.”

This felt like a trick question. “I know he seemed...pretty stressed.”

“Understatement of the century. Nevertheless, thanks to your guilt trip, he’s planning on going back home for Anna’s confirmation.”

Dean held up both hands. “That was his decision.” 

“Well, it’s the first time he’s made that decision in quite a while, so yeah, I’m gonna give you some of the credit. Or, depending on how things go, the blame.”

“I didn’t—“ Dean began, but then he stopped. Had he been responsible for Cas’s change of heart?

“Look, kid. My brother likes you. Hell if I know why, but he does.” Dean bit his own tongue to stop himself from demanding to know exactly what Cas had done to make Gabe say that. Gabe peered more closely at him, then shrugged. “I guess you’re not hideous. Anyhow, thanks. Mostly because it makes my life a lot easier when I’m not stuck in the middle with both of them complaining to me.” Gabe’s voice was light and teasing, but Dean could see the sincerity in his eyes. 

“You’re welcome,” Dean said, a little hesitantly. “Glad I could help.”

“That means you can deal with him afterwards, too.” Before Dean could respond to that, Gabe patted him on the shoulder. “Good talk.”

*

Somehow, despite coming back inside twice to give additional instructions to the rest of the staff, Cas left on time for the confirmation. Dean tried to roll his eyes at Cas’s inability to step away from the bakery, but the frequent returns provided extra glimpses of Cas dressed for church. That white button-down shirt must have magical properties because it somehow did more to accentuate the muscles of his arms than his regular short sleeved t-shirts did. Not to mention the slacks which framed his ass in an entirely new and extremely pleasing way. Dean liked the way Cas looked in jeans best, but this was a close second, and definitely preferable to those damn cargo shorts. Even with the boss gone, Jimmy’s ran smoothly. Cas wasn’t back by the time they closed everything up, so Dean hoped it had been a good day for him as well.

That evening, on the way to the grocery store, he took a detour past the bakery and was surprised to see lights on. From the Impala, he could see Cas inside wiping down tables that Dean knew were already clean. There was an empty parking spot right out front so he pulled in and watched Cas for a moment. As soon as he saw the way Cas was manhandling the chairs, Dean took a deep breath, got out of the car, and rapped on the door. Cas whirled around, his face softening when he saw who it was. He crossed to the door and unlocked it to let Dean in. 

“So, how’d it go today?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded toward the tables. “You know I did all that a few hours ago, right?”

Cas looked guiltily at the rag in his hands. 

Groceries could wait, Dean decided. “Did you have dinner?”

“I had store bought cake and dreadful punch.”

Well, no wonder the man was cranky. Dean waved a decisive hand at him. “Get your stuff. We’re going for burgers.”

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in a booth waiting for their food. Cas had been quiet for the drive, but Dean figured the fact that he’d even agreed to come along was a good sign. Dean kept the conversation light, watching the way Cas visibly relaxed once he had some actual food in him. 

It seemed best to start with the easy questions first. “How’s Anna?”

Cas took a sip of his soda, looking wistful. “She seems very grown up all of a sudden. She looked lovely and she gave a thoughtful speech.”

“I bet she was glad you were there.”

“She said as much.” Cas ducked his head a little in embarrassment. Dean resisted the urge to gloat. 

“And how’d it go with your mom?”

“Same as ever.” He punctuated that by stabbing a fry into a pool of ketchup. Dean nodded, prepared to let it go, but Cas continued. “She wants to micromanage everything I do. It’s like she doesn’t trust me to make decisions. She’s overbearing and undermining all at once. She treats me like a child.” Scowling, Cas folded his arms across his chest and slumped back against the vinyl seat back.

Dean gestured at him. “Gee, I wonder why.” Cas didn’t respond. “Look, like you said, I don’t know your history. But the fact that she came by the bakery at all…it seemed like she was trying, to me.”

“She tries too hard, that’s the problem.”

Dean nodded even though he honestly had no idea what that would feel like, to have a parent so invested in every little thing you did. 

“Plus, when I came out, I think she took it as some personal affront. Like I was doing it just to punish her. She actually said ‘I’m glad your father isn’t alive to see this.’”

“Ouch,” Dean said. That was one good thing about two dead parents, he guessed. No dramatic coming out scenes. “But…it’s not like she threw you out?”

“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?”

“No, of course not—“

Cas sighed and poked at the food left on his plate. “I’m not like you, Dean. I could never have stepped up and taken care of Sam the way you did. I wasn’t even strong enough to tell her to keep her money. I took it because it was easier than doing it all myself,  but doing so left me beholden to her. But you’re right...I did this to myself and I have no right to complain.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that and they finished the meal in near silence. When the check came, Dean tried to pay for both of their meals, but Cas refused to let him. Afterwards, they rode in tense silence in the Impala until Cas noticed they weren’t heading back to the bakery.  

“Where are you going?”

“I want to show you something.”

Dean drove down residential neighborhoods, taking the turns easily even though he hadn’t been this way in a while. He pulled over in front of a house and turned off the ignition. 

Cas didn’t say anything but he turned toward Dean expectantly.

“This used to be my house when I was little. Well, this is the lot where my house was.” With both hands resting on the steering wheel, he leaned forward to look through the windshield. “When I was four, there was a fire. It was my fault and my mother died. My father never forgave me for it.” The night was still seared in his memory. The heat, the smell of smoke, the unwieldy weight of the baby in his arms. 

Cas opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it.

“I know what you’re going to say. How could it be my fault when I was only four?” Cas tipped his head, giving him the sympathetic look that Dean was used to seeing whenever he told of losing his mother so young, even when he left out all of the important details. “I was supposed to be in bed, but I wouldn’t stay in my room. My mom was putting Sammy to bed and dad had to keep bringing me back to my room. But I thought it was a game because every time I came out again, he’d chase me. I don’t even think I knew he was mad.” He swallowed hard. “The last time when he got up, he thought he’d put his cigarette in the ashtray but it must’ve rolled out and set the bed on fire.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault, Dean. It was an accident.”

Dean let out a huff of breath, sitting back again, his hands loose on his lap. “Yeah, that’s what everyone tries to tell me and I do know that but...there’s no denying it was directly related to something I did. And God knows my dad wouldn’t let me forget it.” Dean rubbed the heel of his right hand over his thigh. “He was never the same after. He turned into a drunk, a mean one at that. So I can’t help but feel like I lost both of my parents that night.”

Unexpectedly, Dean felt Cas’s hand on his, the warmth of his palm and strong fingers covering the back of Dean’s hand. Dean let his hand still under Cas’s touch, unsure of what to do with it. Part of him was aching to flip his hand over and lace their fingers together, but maybe this was just a friendly touch, an acknowledgement of his pain. Either way it felt like a kindness and, for once, he just savored the touch and feeling of connection without telling himself it was undeserved.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Cas said softly. “And I’m sorry such a heavy burden was put on you so young.”

Dean scrubbed his free hand over his face. He didn’t feel sad exactly, but a weariness was settling into his bones, a weight that had started as soon as he’d decided to visit the house. 

“Look, I didn’t bring you here to prove how much worse I had it in the parent department or whatever. It’s not a contest that I’m somehow winning. If it feels like I was taking your mom’s side it’s because a part of me wishes I had a mother who could care the way yours does, even if it pisses you off. A family business, a path to a profession…it may have stifled you but at least you know she cares even if she’s not that great at showing it.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas, but it was enough to know he was there, silent and steady and taking in Dean’s story without trying to convince him of anything other than his own truth. When Dean finally stole a glance at him, Cas was looking down at where their hands met. Dean’s palm was beginning to sweat against the denim of his jeans and just as he was building the nerve to take Cas’s hand in his, Cas gave a little squeeze and then pulled his hand away. 

“Thank you,” he said but Dean didn’t know what he was being thanked for exactly, so he started up the Impala and drove them back home. 


	7. Chapter 7

The more time Dean spent in the bakery, the more he learned. Whereas in the beginning, his role in the back had been adding the occasional finishing touch, he’d moved on to pulling and prepping ingredients for various recipes, and then to making some of the simpler batters for cookies or muffins when needed. Today, however, Cas wanted to teach him some of the steps involved in making the cinnamon rolls.

“ _Some_ of the steps?” Dean was used to mixing, portioning, then baking. “Is this going to start with like, churning our own butter?”

Cas looked thoughtful. “I wonder if that would—“

“Cas, no.” 

“All right, fine. Let’s get started.”

This was the first time Dean would be working with yeast, which seemed destined to be a nerve-wracking process as Cas stressed that the liquids had to be the proper temperature to activate the yeast correctly. Early on, Dean had learned the precision necessary for baking when Kevin showed him how to weigh ingredients instead of relying on measuring cups, so when Cas explained that yeast needed to be at about 110 degrees, Dean looked around for the thermometer. 

Cas stopped him. “You can use that to be certain, but I’ve found this is easier.” He turned on the faucet in the sink and gave it a few moments to get warm. He felt it, then adjusted the temperature and felt it again. Then he reached for Dean’s hand and guided it under the water, holding it in place. “That’s what you want. Slightly warmer than lukewarm but not so hot that you can’t keep your hand there.” 

When Cas finally released his hand, Dean did his best to concentrate, ignoring the super-charged spots where he was sure he could still feel Cas’s fingertips. “Ok,” he managed.

“Actually, though, we use milk for these, so you will need the thermometer,” Cas said, and was that a smirk? 

Dean narrowed his eyes at him but went to retrieve it so that they could continue with the next phase of the lesson which turned out to be a straightforward matter of mixing the ingredients together. Once the dough was smooth and soft, Cas placed it into a lightly oiled bowl which he set into the warming drawer.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for it to proof.”

“For how long?”

“Until it’s about doubled in size.”

Dean had seen Cas and Kevin making the cinnamon rolls plenty of times. “Ok, then you roll it out and add the filling, right? Cut it into individual circles and bake it?”

“No.”

“No?”

“After it proofs, we roll it out and add the filling and cut it into individual circles.”

“That’s what I said.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “ _Then_ it goes through a second proof.”

Dean thought back to the chemistry he’d helped Sam study for. “Ok, but couldn’t you just proof it the first time at a higher temperature to streamline the process?”

Cas shook his head and went to retrieve an already-baked roll from the front. He broke it in half and showed Dean the inside. Dean took the offered half off the roll but instead of looking at it he watched as Cas licked the glaze from his finger. “See how even the bake is? That’s from the bubbles the yeast forms inside the dough. If you add too much heat, the yeast will over-inflate and those bubbles will pop. The rolls will be flat.” Cas fixed him with a steady look, intense enough that Dean swallowed hard. “Some things can’t be rushed, Dean. They require care and patience, but the end result is so worth it.”

Dean stared back, unconsciously letting his eyes drop to Cas’s mouth. “So, uh, what do we do while it’s proofing?”

“We make the caramel sauce.”

Cas turned away to get the ingredients and Dean nearly had to lay his head on the cool, stainless steel work surface to get the blood back into his brain. This was getting ridiculous. 

With anybody else, he’d know how to make a move to get this tension to spill over into whatever came next. Sure, once he’d gotten slapped when he’d read things wrong and a couple of times he’d been thrown out of a bar all together, but generally this was the easy part for him. But whatever _this_ was with Cas felt different. For one, Cas was his boss and that automatically made things weird. If he had his signals crossed here, it could have far reaching-consequences. This bakery was the current source of his livelihood, so it wasn’t like he could have a fling with Cas and then disappear if things went south. And that brought him to the scariest part, the realization he kept pushing back down and trying to ignore. For the first time, he wasn’t looking for just a fling. For years he’d kept his focus on Sam and, even if he’d been interested, there had been no time for actual relationships. And even when his dad was still in the picture, he’d been such a wild card that Dean spent plenty of time at home in order to run interference between Sam and John. Dean knew how to have his needs met, that was never a problem, but actual dating was something that had never been an option. Truthfully, until now, Dean never felt like he’d been missing out. 

But as Dean had gotten to know Cas over these past few months, he’d gone from the weird guy who Dean was sure hated him to a friend. The more time he spent with Cas and the more he got to know him, the more Dean genuinely liked him. Sometimes it amazed Dean that they could have come from such different childhoods and circumstances to still end up at the same place. That somehow a drunken mistake and the most unlikely of situations led them to the point that they were here together making cinnamon rolls. This had never been Dean’s plan, not even close, but he liked being here. He liked the people he worked with and bringing happiness to the customers. He found it surprisingly satisfying to be a part of the community that Jimmy’s had created. He wasn’t about to risk losing that because his boss was unfairly hot and smart and talented with his hands and—

“Dean?” Cas was standing at the stove with a pot and the caramel ingredients. 

“Sorry.” Dean hurried back over to stand by his side. “What first?”

If Dean thought making the caramel sauce would be a less distracting activity, he was sorely mistaken because Cas decided the easiest way to help was to stand behind him, guiding him through the proper timing for stirring the foaming mixture so that it wouldn’t bubble over or scorch. He was so close that Dean could literally feel the heat of his breath on his neck and occasionally, when he reached forward to help stir, he pressed his chest against Dean’s back. Dean was about ten seconds from bubbling over himself when Charlie and Kevin came in from the front. 

Dean startled so badly that he dropped the spoon he’d been using. Cas, however, merely took a slow step back. 

“It’s time for the next Harry Potter movie and we’re doing it at my place,” Charlie announced. “You guys can all meet Gilda. Who’s in?” 

“Can I bring someone?” Kevin asked.

They all swiveled in his direction. Charlie blinked at him. “What?” 

Kevin turned pink but he held her gaze. “Can I bring someone to your party?”

“Of course. Did you have someone in mind or are you asking in general…?”

“I’m seeing someone.”

Charlie punched him in the arm. “Way to go! Yes absolutely bring whoever this magical creature is!”

Relieved, Kevin smiled. “Her name is Channing.”

“Ok, cool. Me and Gilda, you and Channing.” She turned to Dean and Cas. “And you two losers.”

Dean looked at Cas and shrugged one shoulder in question. When Cas nodded his head, they stood smiling at each other until Kevin pointed out that the caramel was boiling over.

*

Given where Charlie lived, it just made sense for Dean to pick up Cas so they could carpool. They were the last ones to arrive, which resulted in a flurry of introductions when they got there. Gilda was clearly comfortable in Charlie’s apartment and she moved easily around setting out glasses and drinks. While Kevin seemed a little shy in the social setting, Channing didn’t seem at all fazed by the new people and popped right up to greet them. 

“I ordered pizza, that works, right?” Charlie said once everyone was introduced.

“Always,” Dean assured her. This was how he’d imagined the original movie night would go and it was already a hell of a lot less awkward than that one. On the flip side, odds were he wouldn’t end up with Cas asleep in his lap. 

The pizza showed up soon after they did and they clamored around Charlie’s kitchen island to fill their plates. 

“Is it just green olives you don’t eat? Or the black ones too?” Cas asked, as he lifted the lid of a box. 

“Black ones are fine.” He held out his plate for Cas to serve him a slice. 

Charlie clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re not an olive racist, Dean.”

“Don’t get me started on tomatoes, though.”

Cas gave him his sincere face. “I’m telling you, Dean. A slice of garden-ripe tomato with some fresh mozzarella and basil and a drizzle of good olive oil. You’ll change your tune.” 

“You can tell me that as many times as you like. It’s never gonna happen.” Dean opened two beers and handed one to Cas.

Smiling, Channing turned to Kevin. “You’re right. They are super cute together.”

The room went silent.

“I never said that!” Kevin practically yelled. He gave Channing a meaningful look. “I never said that.”

Channing gave Kevin a much scarier meaningful look of her own before turning back to the group. “Silly me. I must have misunderstood.”

Dean decided this was an excellent time to check out Charlie’s apartment which was just as awesome as he’d imagined. She had posters and cool stuff all over, things from different fandoms mixed and matched and covering nearly every wall space and flat surface. By the time he finished perusing her shelf of DVDs, everyone was settling in with their plates to watch the movie. Channing was sitting mostly on Kevin’s lap in the big armchair, and Gilda and Charlie were cuddled up on 2/3 of the couch. Cas sat on the only other open cushion. 

Charlie made a move to get up. “I can grab you my desk chair from the other room.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Dean settled onto the floor at Cas’s end of the couch so that he could lean against the arm. 

Cas peered down at him. “I can make room.”

Yeah, perfect. The last thing Dean needed was to spend two hours crammed against him. This was a much wiser choice and he congratulated himself on making it until he turned to answer him and realized his head was basically at Cas’s crotch level. _Don’t look don’t look don’t look._

Dean looked. 

Thankfully, what he got was mostly an eyeful of stupid cargo shorts, and that was enough to get him refocused. 

It was hard not to feel like a fifth (or sixth?) wheel when everyone else was paired up. Once or twice, Cas nudged Dean with his knee to get his attention and after one of the times, he let his knee stay there, resting against Dean’s upper arm. He probably didn’t even notice he’d done it but Dean spent a good portion of the movie completely distracted by the (probably innocent) press of his leg. Dean couldn’t stop hyper-focusing on the place where they touched, like spotlights should be shining down on it, for everyone to see. When Cas got up for another beer, Dean realized how foolish he’d been. It was close quarters on the couch, that was all. By the time Cas came back (with a drink for Dean as well) he sat back down and left a space between them. Ok, well, that answered that question. Dean took a long drink of his beer and let his shoulders relax only to realize that he’d brushed back up against Cas’s leg. He froze, eyes on the screen, then had to chew his own lip when Cas shifted his leg until it leaned against him again. 

At that point, Dean gave up trying to fight it. He’d had just enough beer to feel loose and easy and, if he didn’t exactly lean into Cas’s touch, he definitely let himself linger there, happily soaking in the warmth of his nearness, whether or not it was intentional. By the end of the movie, he thought he’d managed to play it cool, but he couldn’t keep from blushing when Cas stood and extended his hand to pull Dean up. With their hands clasped, Cas tugged him to his feet and Dean staggered a little forward, right into Cas’s personal space. Cas held on to his hand for an extra moment until he regained his balance. 

*

By the time August rolled around Dean was left face to face with the fact that Sam’s time in Lawrence was ticking away. With time winding down, he hurried home each day after work, not lingering in the afternoons with Cas. He missed those moments and the two of them walking together, but he couldn’t enjoy them the way he could when it seemed the entire summer stretched before them. At home, though, he spent a lot of time cleaning and organizing the apartment, filled with a jazzed up energy that he couldn’t seem to shake. It felt good to be productive and it kept his mind off the signals he may or may not be getting from Cas but the more he spent going through all their belongings, the more unprepared he decided Sam was to move. 

Dean had offered to drive Sam to Stanford. In his mind, they’d have this one last road trip together as an official send-off but it soon became clear that it wasn’t a feasible idea. Sam was worried about how much time Dean would have to take off work to do it, not to mention the two days he’d have to spend driving home alone. 

“I don’t want to spend my first days there worried about you dead in a ditch somewhere in Utah,” Sam had said. Stressing out Sam was the one thing Dean wasn’t willing to do, especially not when everything was going to be changing for him.

Because this was about Sam, Dean managed to keep his mouth shut about how he’d be the one left worrying when he sent his little brother off in a flying death tube. A little research, though, showed a plane ticket was going to cost less than a couple of motel nights and however many tanks of gas. As much as Dean had looked forward to their road trip, Sam was right that flying was going to be more efficient in the long run. He’d found a non-direct flight that saved some money and, even with a layover in Phoenix, it would still be a fraction of the time spent driving. Dean bought the ticket and pretended not to think about how distance and cost would affect the chances of Sam coming home. 

This plan meant he’d fly into Oakland and then take public transportation to campus. A few weeks before he left, Dean was suddenly struck with a mental picture of his little brother struggling to carry everything he owned as he ran for a train. 

“Sam!”

“What?” Sam called from his room where he was wisely hiding to keep the whirlwind that was his brother from assigning him a job.

Dean walked down the hall and opened his door. “What are you taking to school?”

“Like, my clothes and my computer?”

“No, I mean, what are you taking it _in_?”

“Oh. Um. I hadn’t thought about that.” Sam frowned. All of their trips to Sioux Falls involved some combination of duffels and Sam’s backpack with stuff tossed loosely in the back of the car. 

“You need an actual suitcase.”

He could practically hear Sam mentally cataloguing his belongings. “I guess I do.”

The next chance he got, Dean swung by the thrift store. He found a nice-sized suitcase with a minimum of wear and tear. One of the wheels stuck, but Dean could fix that easily enough. He wandered through the other aisles, pulling it behind him. Suddenly everything he saw seemed like something Sam needed. He whipped out his phone.

_What about a lamp_

**I can probably get one there**

Yeah, where they’ll charge you an arm and a leg. Dean dug through the shelves until he found a reading lamp with a clamp. He should be able to wrap it up in some of Sam’s t-shirts for safe transport. He tucked it inside the suitcase and kept looking. 

_What else do you need?_

Sam responded with a link from the Stanford website. Dean rolled his eyes but clicked on it. He added some hangers and a bathrobe to the suitcase. Nobody there knew what the fuck an extra long twin sheet was so he’d have to investigate that elsewhere. All in all, though, he was pretty pleased with his haul.

Back home, he called for Sam to come look. The suitcase met with his approval and he seemed to think the lamp would work. “You bought hangers?”

“It said you needed them.”

“I’m not packing hangers. I’ll buy some there. And I’m sure not wearing this.” He held up the nice, thick robe Dean had found. 

“Why not? It says you need something to walk back and forth to the bathroom.” 

Sam sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “I can just wear shorts or whatever. Besides, this probably belonged to a dead guy.”

“Wow, Sam. How’s the view from up there on your high horse?”

“I’m just saying I don’t need you to do all this stuff for me.”

_Ungrateful little shit_. Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well, excuse me for trying to help.”

“What are you going to do when I’m gone, Dean? Adopt an orphan? Get ten cats?”

“Fuck off, Sam.”

Dean stomped off to his room. Then he turned around, came back, and snatched the bathrobe from where Sam had left it on the couch. “This is mine now.”

Dean was still in his room when Ellen called to check how the preparations were coming. Dean related the events of the evening, his outrage still fresh and hot. “I swear to God I was never this shitty.” 

“Of course you weren’t,” Ellen said in a matter of fact tone. “You want to know why?”

Dean braced himself, worried that he’d somehow failed Sam to make him act this way. How could he have thought he could pull off being a parent as well as a brother? He sighed. “Why?”

“He’s doing exactly what kids his age are supposed to be doing: acting self-centered and ungrateful. You never were because you didn’t get to be a kid, not really. You had bigger concerns and it wasn’t right, but that’s the way it was.” Her voice softened. “If Sam’s driving you nuts now, that means you gave him a safe place to be a regular kid.”

Dean felt his throat tighten but he couldn’t afford to indulge in emotion. Nonetheless, his voice was rough as he tried to laugh it off. “Well, I guess that was my first mistake.”


	8. Chapter 8

With a week to go before Sam left, Dean knew he was miserable to be around, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Whatever had or hadn’t been happening with Cas was now at the furthest corner of his mind. Most of the time he felt like he was tiptoeing along the edge of a cliff, one misstep and he’d plunge into the abyss. He went to work and did his job, but he did so with the barest amount of civility he could get away with. He knew Charlie and Kevin and Cas were concerned about him. He saw them whispering when they thought he was busy making drinks. Cas looked like maybe he wanted to pull him aside and talk to him, but Dean made sure he was doing his job well enough that his boss didn’t need to give him any performance reminders. He smiled at customers and made their orders without error, although nobody got any latte art all week. Eventually, the rest of his co-workers gave him a wide berth, and he was fine with that. 

Sam’s flight was on a Sunday and Dean woke that morning expecting to have to drag himself out of bed, but he woke with a laser focus that nearly whited out everything else. On something like autopilot, he got himself up and ready and made one last breakfast for his brother. After they’d eaten, Sam went to pack up his last few things while Dean took his suitcase down to the car. 

When he came back into the apartment, there was no sign of his brother. “Dude, c’mon. It says you should be there two hours before take-off and the drive is going to take us almost an hour.”

“I just want to make sure I have everything,” Sam called from his bedroom. 

“I’m sure they have My Pretty Pony shampoo in California.”

“That’s not even a thing.” Sam wedged his way into the hall with an overstuffed duffel in one hand and his backpack looped over both shoulders. Dean rushed to take the duffel from him. 

“Look, I know dorm life is going to pale in comparison to this palace but we gotta go.” Dean yanked open the apartment door, but Sam stood in the living room, turning in a slow circle. 

“You’ll be ok here by yourself, right?” He had that pinched look on his face that made Dean’s stomach drop. 

“This place is gonna be 100% nerd-free so yeah, I’m gonna be great.” Dean smiled, pushing past the lump in his throat. 

“Seriously, though—“

“We are so not doing this.” He held the door wide open for his brother.

“I know, I know. No chick flick moments,” Sam said as he passed through and, honestly,  Dean thought he looked a little relieved. 

With the car loaded, they headed east on I-70 toward the airport in Kansas City. The early afternoon traffic was light and by the time Dean parked the Impala carefully in the garage, they had plenty of time to spare. He and Sam unloaded the trunk and made their way into the terminal. Neither of them knew where to go but, just as Dean was berating himself for not studying the airport website ahead of time, Sam spotted the correct counter and took off with long strides. Dean followed, pulling the suitcase which glided along effortlessly behind him thanks to the tune-up and greasing of the wheels he’d given it last weekend. 

They stood in line for Sam to check-in and, even though it was a long line, it seemed to move more quickly than it should. Before Dean was ready, they were at the front and Dean had to put the suitcase up on the scale to be weighed while the woman behind the counter quickly and efficiently snapped on baggage tags then handed Sam his boarding pass and claim checks. 

In a heavy silence they walked toward the security line. Dean wished they hadn’t grabbed fast food along the way because now there was no excuse to pull Sam into a restaurant and sit down for a leisurely meal. Hell, he even would’ve splurged on one of those big chopped salads Sam loved.

His focus from earlier was gone and Dean felt like he couldn’t get his bearings, like this was all happening too fast, even though it had been creeping up on them for months. Too soon, they stood near the entrance to the security line and Dean impatiently waved people past them. 

“Ok, look,” he started, then cleared his throat. Sam was looking at him with big eyes and that scrunched-up look on his face that reminded Dean of the time he was five years old and Dean had made him promise not to cry no matter what he saw Dad do. “You are going to do great. I don’t care what you’ve heard, you’re the smartest one there. But don’t you dare just sit in your room like the giant dork you are. Make sure you go to parties and meet girls and shit.”

Sam sniffled and nodded his head. “I’ll make you proud.” He set down his backpack and Dean grabbed him then, hugging him tightly, breathing him in one last time. 

“Aw, Jesus, kid. You already do.” 

He’d been holding this kid in his arms since he was a baby. He’d held his hand as he learned to walk and picked him up when he fell down. He’d let him sleep in his bed on stormy nights, whether that storm came from clouds outside or the drunk in the living room. Even as Sam had aged and the hugs had turns into high fives or shoulder punches or ruffled hair, he’d been there to make sure Sam was always moving in the right direction. Today that direction was a place Dean couldn’t follow. 

Without meeting his brother’s eyes again, Dean handed him his backpack and gave him a shove toward the security line. 

Dean kept watch as Sam moved through the line. He turned back once to wave, just before he got to the metal detectors, and Dean raised a hand to him. Sam’s smile told him everything he needed to know.

Once Sam was out of sight, there was nothing keeping Dean there, but he found a bench in the concourse and sat, half watching people go by, half lost in his own thoughts. He sat there until the digital departure screen indicated that Sam’s flight was gone and only then did he make his way back to the parking garage. Before he got in, he ran a hand along the Impala’s hood. “Just you and me now.” 

In the car, he put the key into the ignition but he couldn’t bring himself to turn it. He held the wheel loosely in both hands and waited for the familiarity of his Baby to comfort him. He waited and then he waited some more. It wasn’t until a car pulled in across from him, blinding him with its headlights that he realized he’d been sitting there until the sky was nearly dark. He started up the car, paid the ridiculous price for spending so many hours in the garage, and drove back the way he’d come. 

He’d let himself into an empty apartment plenty of times over the years, but tonight was different. The knowledge that Sam wasn’t coming back made his footsteps echo more loudly in the empty space. Knowing he should be hungry, he stood and stared into the refrigerator but anything he considered made his stomach clench and his throat tighten. Like jabbing at a sore tooth with his tongue, he made himself go look in Sam’s room. The bed was stripped and only a naked pillow sat on the bare mattress. In the closet a few things still hung, mostly dress clothes that had been worn twice at the most and then outgrown. The bookshelf was still crowded with books, even though Dean knew there were at least a half dozen crammed in Sam’s bags. His desk, the only piece of furniture that Dean had actually bought for full price at a store, was bare, all signs of the hours and hours Sam had sat at it cleared away. Idly, Dean opened the drawer. All that was left was a paper clip and a used pencil top eraser. He picked them both up and clenched them into the palm of his hand. Sam would be halfway to Phoenix by now. He might as well be going to the moon. 

In the bathroom, he had to turn away from the sight of his own toothbrush alone in the holder. 

His throat threatened to close up on him and his heart hammered in his chest like he’d been running but all he’d done all day was sit. Sit in the airport. Sit in his car. Sit on the edge of Sam’s bare bed while Sam hurtled through the sky to his new life. He needed something to ease the panic rising up inside of him. In another moment, the bottle of whiskey was in his hands. 

He remembered leaving the apartment. With a substantial amount of alcohol in his system, he’d finally gotten hungry and the only thing that would do was one of those calzones stuffed with sausage and pepperoni. Sam loved those calzones and he couldn’t believe they hadn’t gotten one before he’d left. He walked halfway there before he remembered that Jimmy’s was gone now, replaced by Jimmy’s. Holding on to a light pole with one hand, he threw his head back and laughed. Jimmy’s turned into Jimmy’s. That was the funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Wiping his eyes and still giggling, he kept moving forward until he reached Jimmy’s. The new Jimmy’s, he reminded himself, not the old one. There were no calzones to be had and he was out of ideas on how to acquire one so he sat on the sidewalk outside to think. He sank to the ground, careful to avoid even touching the glass of the front window. He should probably let Cas know how careful he was being. 

He had to lie on his side to work his phone out of his front pocket, but he did it. Then he heaved himself upright again and tipped his head back against the wall. Holding the screen up in front of his face, he closed one eye and then the other until he was able to focus well enough to unlock it and poke at his contacts. When he managed to place the call, he smiled proudly at his phone and only belatedly remembered to put it to his ear. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.”

“Yes?”

“Cas, I have to tell you something.”

“Dean, are you alright? You sound—“

“I stayed away from the window this time, Cas. I wanted you to know that. I stayed away from it.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

Dean huffed in exasperation. “The window. I didn’t mess it up this time.”

“Where are you, Dean?”

Oh God. He’d screwed it up again. He was going to get fired. He was drunk and he was right back where he started only this time when he went back home Sam wouldn’t be there. Sam was never going to be there again. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry for bothering you. You’ve always been so nice to me. I’m sorry. I gotta go. Bye.”

Dean pushed the screen to end the call. He saw the screen go dark only the weird thing was, he still heard Cas talking. He squinted at the screen and shook the phone a little to see if that would help but he could still hear Cas’s voice.

It wasn’t until a warm hand cupped his chin that he realized Cas was there, crouching down in front of him. It was familiar in an awful, disappointing way and Dean pushed at his hand and turned his head away. 

“Dean.” The kindness in his voice had Dean pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face. “Dean, it’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dean said into the denim of his jeans. “I’m no better than the first time we met. I’m a fucking mess and now you know it.”

“Will you look at me, please?” Dean really didn’t want to. This was embarrassing enough without having to face Cas. But hearing his voice was the only thing keeping Dean from losing it right now, and maybe that was worth something. He lifted his head and the concern in Cas’s blue eyes made tears well up in his own. “This was a hard day for you.”

Dean didn’t know how to tell Cas that it felt like a part of him had been ripped right out when Sam turned his back and walked away. That there was a raw emptiness inside his chest that could never be filled. But Cas was there and he was waiting for Dean to say something so Dean took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I think my toothbrush is lonely,” he said, and burst into tears. 

Next thing he knew, he was being hauled to his feet and even with his own hand pressed over his eyes, he knew he was being led around the side of the building to the back entrance. Cas had an arm around his waist, supporting Dean’s weight as he steered him along and ushered him up the stairs. He walked Dean to the couch and Dean sunk inelegantly onto it, rubbing at his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, still snuffling. 

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Cas said, firmly enough that Dean almost believed it. “I’m going to get you a blanket.”

In a panic, Dean got to his feet. “No, no, I’ve bothered you enough.” He swayed a little but Cas was there to steady him. 

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight, Dean. It’s fine for you to sleep it off here.” 

Cas’s face was right there, so full of honest concern. Also, his eyes were really, really blue. He should really tell Cas that. He probably didn’t know. “Your eyes are really, really blue,” Dean heard himself saying. “You’re so nice and your eyes…”

“Are really, really blue. Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” 

Dean peered at the look of amusement on Cas’s face. Oh great, he was probably laughing at him now. Defeated, Dean sat down on the couch and let his head fall back. Cas appeared a few minutes later with a pillow and a folded up quilt. “Let’s get you settled. Need help with your shoes?”

“I can do it,” Dean muttered, still embarrassed. It took all of his concentration but he got them off.

Cas moved them out of the way. “Ok, do you want to take off your jeans?”

“No!” Even in his drunken state, Dean could see how Cas was taken aback by his outburst. “Jeans stay on.”

“I just meant…so you’d be comfortable,” Cas said, sitting back on his heels and holding his hands up to ease Dean’s dismay. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

“I’m gonna sleep now.” Dean laid down on the couch and tried to unfold the quilt. He closed his eyes and pretended not to notice that Cas had to help him. Closing his eyes was the best idea he’d had in a long time and he let the darkness overtake him.

*

He woke disoriented in the morning with a crick in his neck but to the smell of bacon. In an attempt to get his bearings, he jolted upright and the sudden movement made his stomach lurch. He was pretty sure he could feel his brain sloshing around inside his skull and he let out an unintelligible sound somewhere between a moan and a grunt.

When he cracked his eyes open, Cas was standing there, his hair wet and curling. He was holding out a mug of coffee and that automatically made him the most perfect sight Dean had ever seen. Dean rubbed the heel of one hand into his forehead and reached for the mug with the other hand. “Thanks.”

“I’m making some breakfast. Do you think you can eat?”

Dean wasn’t sure but the first scalding sip of coffee felt like an improvement, so he nodded yes without meeting Cas’s eyes. Satisfied, Cas went back to the kitchen. As the memories of last night resurfaced, Dean wished he’d woken up early enough to have slipped out the door before Cas was awake. Sipping at the coffee, he wondered if it was still considered a walk of shame when there was no sex involved. 

With half the mug gone, he had enough caffeine in his system to worry about the consequences of showing up drunk at his boss’s place. He thought about trying to make a polite exit, but the effort involved in getting up to leave overwhelmed him enough that he decided he may as well stay and eat first. Besides, the thought of going back to his empty apartment gave him a pang that had nothing to do with his hangover. _Sam._ He set down the coffee mug with a loud enough thud that Cas looked over. Frantically patting his pockets and searching under the blanket, he asked, “Where’s my phone?”

Cas pointed to the kitchen counter. “I knew you were waiting to hear from Sam so I plugged it into my charger.”

Stiff-legged, Dean got up to check it. There was a single text from Sam that read _made it_

Dean started to text back but realized it was two hours earlier in California and Sam would be sleeping. He looked at his brother’s message one more time then set his phone back down. “Sam made it.”

Cas smiled. “That’s good news. Food’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Ok, I’m gonna…” he hooked a thumb towards the bathroom. He wasn’t hiding exactly but he spent a few extra minutes with both hands planted on the sink and his head hanging down. He’d gotten himself into this mess and, since Cas was apparently still speaking to him, it was time to be an adult and deal with it. He splashed cold water on his face until he looked about as good as he felt, which really wasn’t saying much. He patted his face dry on the hand towel and took a deep breath before emerging from the safety of the bathroom to face Cas again.

Cas was setting plates on the table and Dean stopped to retrieve his mug from the coffee table before joining him. “I’m sorry for turning up like that last night.”

“It was completely understandable,” Cas said, which didn’t really explain anything.

Dean shook his head. “You’ve done a lot for me and I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.” 

“You needed someone and I’m glad you ended up here.”

Dean took a bite of hot, crisp bacon. “Well, if you feed me afterwards, it’s only going to encourage me,” he joked. Cas blanched a little and Dean froze with the bacon still in his hand. 

“Dean,” Cas said slowly, “I hope you know that I would never take advantage of you like that.”

Dean’s mind raced to what he could remember of last night. Oh. The jeans thing. Dean shook his head. “Oh no, don’t worry about that. It’s fine.”

“I merely wanted to—“

Dean waved the bacon at him. “It’s fine. I know.” He didn’t need Cas to bend over backwards trying to explain that he wasn’t trying to get into his pants. Even if Dean had entertained the possibility (once, twice, most mornings in the shower), showing up drunk and crying was the way to nobody’s heart. Nothing hotter than a snot-covered human disaster. He sighed and focused on breakfast, which was delicious and only tasted a little bitter in his throat given how undeserving of it he was. 

After breakfast he tried to help clean up, but Cas wouldn’t let him. Instead, Dean folded the quilt  as neatly as he could and then put on his shoes.

“Dean, if you need to take a few days off...” Cas began when they were standing at the door. 

Dean’s heart sank. The last thing he needed was to be rattling around by himself at home. “If you want me to, I will...but I think being at work is probably the best thing for me right now.”

To his surprise, Cas smiled. “I’ll see you at work then.”


	9. Chapter 9

With daylight streaming in, the apartment felt less desolate than it had last night. Dean walked through every room just to prove to himself that he could. He brushed his teeth, narrowing his eyes at his toothbrush in the holder afterwards, then found himself awkwardly patting it once. He took a long, hot shower until his hangover and his misery both receded into a dull ache. With that done, he rewarded himself by texting Sam back then napping for a few more hours. When he woke again in the early afternoon, he felt much better. 

He’d been so focused on getting Sam ready that he was almost out of clean laundry himself. He gathered up his clothes and towels (Sam’s dirty towel had slid to the floor of the bathroom and Dean picked it up with a sigh, one last gift from his brother) and headed to the laundry room. He didn’t need to stay but something about the whirring sounds of the machine and the familiar scent of soap and fabric softener made it easier for him to concentrate. He needed groceries and the Impala needed an oil change. He needed to go back to work and apologize to everyone for being such an asshole all week. Maybe he could learn some new bakery themed latte art, like a cupcake or something. Armed with a plan for the next few days, he felt less adrift. 

When his alarm went off Wednesday morning for work, he woke up relieved at having a way to fill a large chunk of his day. That anticipation was slightly tempered by having to see Cas again. He knew circumstances weren’t the same as when he’d first showed up to clean the window but it didn’t make pulling open the back door much easier. Cas may have kept his gaze on him for a few extra moments, but all he said was “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean wanted to say something to him but Kevin was right there and asking to speak to Cas in the office was going to make things even more awkward so Dean nodded his own hello and got his day started. 

Later that morning it took him a couple of tries to get the cupcake just right on Cas’s vanilla latte, but Cas looked at it like Dean had given him a present wrapped up with a bow. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and said, “About the other night,” but just then Charlie poked her head in from the front to call for Dean’s help.

With no reason to hurry home after his shift, Dean took his time at the end of the day like he used to. The coffee station was in need of a good re-organizing and he tackled the beginnings of it, at least. He was finishing up when Cas came out with his boxes to take to the senior center. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “About the other night.”

Cas set down the boxes and approached him. “It’s fine, Dean.”

“It’s not, not really. I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I was happy to be there for you.”

Dean let out a half-hearted snort. “Pretty sure you babysitting me isn’t in my contract.”

Cas was having none of Dean lightening the mood and he looked at Dean in a way that made his stomach flip. He looked at Dean like he mattered. “You do a lot for everyone around you and sometimes you need someone to take care of you. It’s not a weakness.”

‘Ok, well, thank you. I won’t let it happen again.” He turned away to stack the last couple of coffee cups in the holder. 

“Dean.” 

Dean turned back around to find Cas right there. He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. Cas was looking at him so intently, in a way that made Dean feel big and small simultaneously. A heat grew between them and Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. He thought maybe Cas was starting to lean in toward him but just then a shrill noise startled them and Cas stepped backwards. 

Dean blinked for a few moments, trying to gather his bearings while he looked for the source of the obnoxious sound. Cas was staring at his crotch, and that wasn’t helping a goddamn thing until he realized that the noise was coming from the phone tucked into his front pocket. Face red, he pulled it out to find Jo’s name on the screen. She must have changed her ringtone when she was down for graduation.

He shook his head and answered it. “What.”

“So, I have news and Ellen and Bobby said I had to tell you.”

“Damn right,” came Ellen’s voice in the background.

“Yeah ok, tell me.” Dean smiled in what he hoped was an apologetic way at Cas who still hadn’t stepped back. 

Jo sighed loudly and suddenly she had all of Dean’s attention. He frowned, waiting for her to speak, worried that something bad had happened. “I got nominated for Homecoming Queen.”

Dean blinked. “You what?”

“You heard me.”

This was too good to be true. “Yeah, no, I think we have a bad connection. Tell me again.”

“I got nominated for Homecoming Queen!”

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Oh my God, that’s the best thing I ever heard.” Cas watched him laugh with a smile on his own face. “Do you have to wear like, a dress and a tiara and shit?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. They announce the winner at halftime of the football game.”

“When? I am so there.”

“What? No fucking way—“

“Joanna Beth, language!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. When is it?”

There was a long pause. “Next Friday night,” she muttered. “But one nasty remark out of you and I will kick your ass even if I have to do it in high heels.”

“I don’t doubt. Hey, Jo?” 

“What.”

“Congrats.”

Her voice softened. “Thanks. See you next Friday.”

“See you then.”

Dean hung up and stuck his phone back in his pocket. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious.”

“Good news?” Cas asked.

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he tried to explain. “So, you remember Jo? She’s like my little sister. She’s a year younger than Sam and she and her mom live up in Sioux Falls with Bobby. “

“They came down for Sam’s graduation.”

“Yes, exactly. Anyhow she’s like the biggest tomboy ever. All plaid and flannel and boots. Half the time I’m terrified of her, to be honest. And she just got nominated for Homecoming Queen.” He laughed again at the very thought. 

Cas smiled broadly. “It’s nice that you’re going to support her.”

Dean must be overrun with endorphins from laughing because why else would he say what he said next. “You should come with me!”

“To Sioux Falls?”

“Yeah, absolutely. It’ll be fun. We can road trip up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Oh, man, I gotta tell Sam.” Dean was trying hard not to text or call him too much but he was anxious to hear more of what he’d been doing during orientation and this was the perfect excuse to call him. Going back to Sioux Falls without him was going to be...different. 

Cas raised one eyebrow. “Does this mean you get to come to my next family event?”

Dean thought of his brief interaction with Naomi and winced. “Ok, forget I said anything.”

Cas shook his head. “Too late. I’m in.”

*

Sam had found the news as hilarious as Dean had, but he’d only had a few minutes to talk because his RA was keeping their hall busy with tours and social activities. Dean hadn’t even had the chance to mention that he was taking Cas with him, but that was ok. It was going to be too complicated to explain. 

Thoughts of the upcoming trip helped to make up for the fact that the apartment seemed sadder as the days got shorter. It gave him something to focus on as he grew accustomed to the fact that it only took five minutes to wash his own dishes and clean up after a meal. He didn’t know how to cook in small quantities, so one meal might last him for three dinners, which left him with even more empty time on his hands. There were plus sides of living alone, but Sam’s absence was so fresh that he wasn’t quite ready to appreciate how he was saving a bundle on groceries and the only shoes he tripped on these days were his own. Or the fact that nobody argued over what to watch on Netflix and the bathroom was always available. 

Benny showed up one evening just as Dean was finishing the quick after-dinner clean up that a single person required. Dean let him in, happy for another person in the apartment.

“How’s it going? Turn Sam’s room into a museum yet?”

Dean laughed. “Someday he’ll make it big and there’ll be a _Sam Winchester slept here_ plaque on the outside of this dump.”

“For sure.” Dean shut the door behind him and they moved to sit on the couch. “So, how’s he doing in California?”

“All right, I mean as far as I can tell? He’s so busy that I’ve barely had a chance to talk to him. His RA has all these events planned for them so he’s always running off to some pizza thing or movie night.”

“That’s good, though. Keeps him from getting homesick, probably.”

“I guess. He said he was meeting people on his hall.”

“And you? How are you doing with him gone?”

“I’m...ok.” Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It sounds weird but in one way it’s sort of easier now that he’s gone?”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s hard to explain, but like, knowing he was leaving was hanging over my head all the time. That part is gone.”

Benny considered for a minute before nodding. “That makes sense. Sometimes the build-up is the worst part.”

“Yeah, I’m getting used to it but it’s weird here by myself. I was always telling him to turn down his music but now it’s too quiet.” 

“Ok, but now you can have girls in here any time you want. Or hot bakers.” He must’ve seen Dean blush. “Spill it.”

Dean did his best to fill him in, trying to make sense of things himself as he talked Benny through the way they’d gotten friendlier and how Dean was pretty sure there’d been flirting. He didn’t gloss over what an asshole he’d been leading up to Sam’s departure or, wincing, how he’d showed up drunk outside Cas’s.

Benny doubled over with laughter. “Again?”

All Dean could do was shrug and laugh himself. Now that he’d had a little distance, it _was_ pretty funny. “He didn’t fire me so…”

“That’s a good sign.”

“I dunno, man.” Dean chewed his lip. “So there’s this other thing, too.”

Benny looked incredulous. “There’s more?”

Dean told him about Jo and homecoming and how he’d somehow blurted out an invitation that Cas had accepted. “I don’t know what any of it means,” he finished, maybe even more confused than when he’d started talking.

“Ok, so let me get this straight,” he peered at Dean. “Although perhaps straight is the wrong word to use here.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas agreed to go to Sioux Falls with you overnight. To see a high school football game.”

“Well, to see Jo.”

“Who he’s met once?”

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off. “It’s weird, right?”

“The only thing that’s weird is that you manage to walk around with your head this far up your own ass.”

Maybe that explained why when he’d told Bobby he was bringing a friend from work, Bobby had immediately asked if it was Cas. Dean had figured that was because he remembered meeting him at graduation. Possibly he’d mentioned Cas a few times in their phone calls as well. Bobby hadn’t seemed to care, he’d only said that he was glad Dean didn’t have to make the drive alone. Dean hadn’t bothered responding to that, since he’d been driving the six hours himself for years. 

By the time Benny left, Dean still wasn’t sure what to think. Yes, Cas had agreed to come with him on this overnight trip but it wasn’t like they’d be spending the night together, he reminded himself. They’d be gone overnight, both of them staying under the same roof at Bobby’s house. Technically, they’d spent the night together already, if you counted Dean sleeping it off on Cas’s couch. Lying in bed in the dark, Dean rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. Maybe he could redeem himself a bit on this trip.

For the rest of the week, he continued to go back and forth between regretting extending the invitation and looking forward to spending this time with Cas. Either way, it kept his brain occupied and maybe that’s why he’d asked in the first place. As he packed on Thursday night, he found himself glad for the first time that Sam was gone. No doubt his brother would have been relentless given an opportunity this good for teasing. 

On Friday, Dean drove to work with his duffle in the trunk since they’d be bugging out a few hours early to make it to the high school in time for the game. Having had over a week to plan, Cas was able to get ahead with the special orders, and Gabriel had agreed to come in on Saturday to fill in. More than once, Dean saw Charlie and Kevin exchange looks but, to Dean’s everlasting gratitude, they kept their mouths shut. Dean had tried to keep his crush on his boss under wraps but, if Channing’s comment at Charlie’s party was indication, he was failing miserably.  

When it was time to leave, Dean couldn’t help smiling at the sight of Cas walking toward the Impala with his overnight bag. That pleasant feeling quickly morphed into nervousness once he was faced with the reality of them spending so much time together. While Dean had done the drive between Lawrence and Sioux Falls enough that he could probably do it in his sleep, he’d never done it with such awareness of the person in the passenger seat, and he found himself chattering about Bobby and Ellen and Sioux Falls to stave off any uncomfortable silences. “Bobby’s house is nothing fancy, but I have a lot of good memories of it. Bobby runs a salvage business and the yard surrounding his house is one big junkyard. Sam and I used to play hide and seek in the broken down cars all the time.”

“It was a safe place for you growing up,” Cas observed. 

Dean watched the road in silence for a minute. “Yeah, it was.” John generally only dropped them off there when he was in dire straits himself, drinking a lot, getting into fights, unable to hold a job. It was always that darkest hour before the dawn, and in those days the sun coming up looked a lot like a gruff old man with a beard. “I can’t imagine he was thrilled to have a couple of rambunctious boys dumped on him, but Bobby never acted like we were a burden. He was always glad to see us and we knew what we got with him, you know?” He chanced a look over at Cas who was watching him thoughtfully. “My dad could be a little…erratic. But with Bobby we always knew what we were getting.”

“That makes sense,” Cas said. 

Dean knew he couldn’t put into words how much he owed Bobby for all the times he’d taken them in. Bobby taught him what it was to be a man. What it meant to give your word and keep it. Objectively, Bobby’s house might not be considered anything special, but being there taught Dean the true meaning of the word ‘home’. That was too much to explain though, so Dean changed the subject.

*

They could see the lights from the football stadium long before they got to the high school. The paved lot was already filled and Dean was forced to park the Impala in one of the last spots on the grass field next to it. He and Cas walked toward the entrance of the stadium, their shoulders bumping. Most of the fans were already inside, but people were still filing in and before Dean could get his wallet out of his pocket, Cas had money in his hand and was purchasing their tickets. 

“Ok, fine. But the popcorn is on me.”

“It’s a deal.”

The high school stadium was _the_ place to be on a Friday night in autumn. Little kids darted through the crowds standing on the track that circled the field, and teenagers stood in clumps, boys trying hard to impress girls. Parents wearing big buttons with their son’s face on them sat alertly on the bleachers, their focus on the teams as they warmed up. As Dean led Cas through the crowd, his eyes peeled for Bobby, the marching band began to play something loud and nearly recognizable. Finally Dean caught sight of Bobby, standing and waving his hat to get their attention, and they worked their way up the stadium steps and mid-way down the row to where he and Ellen had saved them seats. Ellen hugged Dean and shook Cas’s hand and they settled in next to them on the metal bench. 

They all stood for the national anthem as people continued to fill the bleachers and by the time they sat down again, the row was so crowded that Dean’s leg was pressed right up against Cas’s. The moment the referee blew the opening whistle and the home team kicked off, Cas leaned even closer. “I’ve never actually been to a football game before.”

It was only right, then, that Dean spend a lot of time explaining what was going on. Between the cheerleaders, the band, and the screaming fans, it was pretty damn loud so leaning close to make sure Cas could hear him just made sense. Dean had been to lots of high school games before, at lots of different high schools, but this experience felt kind of surreal. He used to spend the games in a crowd of kids down on the dark end of the track by the scoreboard or, on a good night, under the bleachers with a willing partner. He used to make fun of the couples he saw sitting together in the stands, like a dumb high school football game was an actual date. And now here he was, sitting close to somebody he wanted to be with, having more fun than he had a right to. 

Not that this was a date, of course. 

But Cas seemed to be enjoying himself and when Bobby leaned over to correct something Dean said or give him the background on a particular player, Cas listened attentively and asked questions, like he actually cared about what was happening. Watching the two of them interact made something flutter deep inside, something that felt like pride, even though he wasn’t sure how that all connected. He missed Sam. Missed him more than he could say, but it was getting easier now that the build-up to saying goodbye to him had passed. He was trying his hardest to give him time to adjust and figure things out on his own, but it still pained him not to be in touch with his brother every day. If Sam were here, Dean would probably spend most of his time making fun of the game and everyone there, if only to amuse himself and piss his brother off. There was something kind of nice about being here with Cas and letting himself enjoy that. 

When halftime rolled around, Dean sat up a little straighter to peer down at the sideline while the PA announcer began the introduction of the homecoming court. Jo was one of six girls, each one escorted by a boy, two of whom were in their football uniforms. She wore a bright turquoise dress and her hair was down, framing her face in loose waves. Like the other girls, she carried a bouquet of yellow flowers. All of the girls wobbled a little as they walked in their heels across the grass field, but she held her escort’s arm and kept her head up, smiling tentatively. Dean stood and put his fingers to his mouth, whistling loudly when she was introduced. Beside him, Bobby clapped and cheered while Ellen smiled broadly and wiped her eyes. Cas was the only one who thought to take pictures from up in the stands. 

There was a tense moment of suspense before they announced this year’s Homecoming Queen and the winner, who was standing two girls over from Jo, gasped and put her hands to her face in perfect pageant-worthy fashion. The rest of the girls surrounded her, hugging her in turn. Jo held her flowers while they placed a sash across her shoulders and a tiara on her shiny dark hair. Even from the stands, Dean could tell Jo was relieved to be out of the spotlight, happy to have something to do instead of standing there with all eyes on her. Once the festivities were over, Ellen, Bobby, Dean, and Cas worked their way down to the field to greet her. They stood off to the side, waiting while the court was subjected to an extended picture-taking session but as soon as they were released, she headed over to them, grinning. 

“Wow, the only way that could’ve been worse is if I’d won,” she announced before Ellen pulled her into a hug. 

“Good job not falling on your face,” Dean said. 

“I’m getting pretty good in these things,” she said, lifting up a foot clad in a silver high heel. “But I can’t wait to take them off.” 

Dean hugged her tightly. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, soft enough that only she could hear. 

She squeezed him a little harder. “Don’t get sappy on me.”

Dean blinked hard when he finally released her. She did look beautiful, poised and grown up and it almost hurt to think of the little girl with the missing front teeth that she’d been when Dean and Sam had first met her. Sam was gone now, and Jo would be off to college next year. 

“You remember Cas, right?” 

Cas shook her hand. “Congratulations.”

Jo smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you.” She waited until Cas was showing Ellen the pictures he’d taken before turning to give Dean an exaggerated face, both eyebrows lifted high, her head cocked toward Cas. Dean shook his head quickly but he felt his face flush. Hopefully it was too dark to be visible. 

Jo gave him a skeptical look but thankfully dropped the subject, distracted by a gaggle of teenagers who were approaching. “You guys are staying over, right? Because a bunch of us are going out after the game, but I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He gave her one more half hug. “You go have fun.” 

“Bye, you guys! Bye Mom! Bye Bobby!” She took off with her friends. A couple of the girls turned back to stare at Dean and he gave them a big wink. They laughed and whispered something to each other before disappearing into the crowd. 

“Second half?” Dean asked.

Cas looked in the direction of the snack shack. “Sure, but can we get something to eat?”

Oh shit, Cas must be starving by now since they hadn’t stopped on the way for dinner. “Do you want to go get some real food?” 

“Whatever you want to do is fine.”

Ellen put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Do you think I don’t have food for you at home?”

“She does,” Bobby confirmed. “And she wouldn’t let me have any of it.”

With the halftime events over, there was no need to stay for the rest of the game so they drove to Bobby’s house. Dean felt a sense of calm roll over him as he made the familiar turns, the old house like a beacon of peace and stability. It was going to be strange to have Cas here, under the same roof, but Dean liked sharing this part of himself with Cas, liked seeing him interact with the people who were important to him. Even if they were only destined to be friends, Dean was happy to draw him into his family circle. Cas had given him a chance that he hadn’t deserved, and Dean would forever be grateful to him for that. 


	10. Chapter 10

They parked and grabbed their bags out of the Impala. Lights were already on inside the house and the front door had been left open for them. Dean pulled open the screen door and breathed in the scent that was unmistakably Bobby’s house: old books and motor oil and strong coffee. Stepping over the threshold, even the muscles that were stiff from the drive relaxed. 

Ellen came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I put you boys up in you and Sam’s room so nobody would be stuck on the couch.”

The calm feeling Dean had been reveling in popped like a bubble. When he’d planned this (okay, blurted out an invitation to Cas), he’d pictured Cas in the guest room. Even having him down the hall was going to be weird enough but somehow he’d managed to forget that with Ellen and Jo moved in, there was no guest room. Dean’s old room had twin beds because, even when they’d had the extra space, Sam had ended up on the floor in Dean’s room enough nights that Bobby had given up and moved them in together. Dean had grumbled a little, but he’d mostly been relieved at knowing his brother was there. 

So, yeah, apparently he and Cas were going to be roommates tonight. 

He realized Ellen was still waiting for a response as Cas stood placidly behind him. “Yeah, yeah. Perfect. That couch is way too small for Cas.” He studiously did not think about his long, strong legs and firm torso and muscular arms trying to fit on the upholstered surface. 

“Well, I would’ve made _you_ sleep there,” Bobby pointed out. “Cas is a guest.” 

Dean felt the tips of his ears redden. “Yeah, of course. My room’s fine.” He stood there nodding his head. 

“Well, go show him where to put his things, ya idjit,” Bobby finally prompted. 

Dean led the way up the stairs and down the hall. Just inside the doorway, Dean stopped short and Cas bumped into him from behind. “Sorry.” He tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and nodded to the one by the window. “That one’s yours.”

The room suddenly seemed too small for the two of them. The slope of the roof seemed to be pressing down heavily and the bright, cheery throw pillows on the bed (obviously Ellen’s addition) were clearly sucking the oxygen out of the room. When he dared to look at Cas, there was an unreadable look in his eye and Dean couldn’t decide if he was amused or annoyed. 

“Is this all right, Dean?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean tried to scoff at the idea of it being an issue, but it was less than effective when his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. Despite the signals he’d been getting from Cas lately, he couldn’t shake Cas backpedaling to clarify that he hadn’t been putting the moves on Dean that night at his place. “It might not be what you signed up for, though?” 

“It’s fine with me,” Cas said. “Shall we eat?”

The dinner Ellen made was delicious, or at least Dean assumed. Every bite he took seemed to stick in this throat and only the cold bottle of beer Bobby handed him managed to ease it. He desperately wanted a second one but nobody else did so, with the memory of his most recent drunken appearance outside Cas’s still so fresh, he abandoned the idea. When Ellen brought out her famous spiced bourbon apple pie, Dean decided that maybe things were going to be ok after all.

Other people might be nervous serving a pie to a professional baker, but Ellen just winked at Cas as she served him a generous slice. “You let me know if you want this recipe.”

Cas tasted it thoughtfully, taking bites of the filling and the crust separately before trying them together. “This is incredible. Maybe we should add this pie to our menu. What do you think, Dean?” 

Great. Now all Dean could think of was that first night with Benny urging him on. He took a bite of his own pie, trying desperately not to blush. “I think it would sell.”

“I agree.” Cas turned to Ellen. “I’m hoping to involve Dean more in the baking side of things, but that means hiring someone else to work the retail aspect.”

Ellen smiled at him. “The boy knows his way around a kitchen. He started with me good and young.”

“He told me that,” Cas said. They were both looking at him so Dean shoved a larger hunk of pie into his mouth. 

“Is that why you hired him? His kitchen experience? Because I’ll take full credit for that,” Ellen said. 

Dean choked on his pie and coughed, spraying flaky crumbs of pie crust everywhere. Bobby helpfully thumped him on the back. Jesus, maybe some time during that multi-hour drive to Sioux Falls they should’ve formulated an answer to this question just in case. He could see the far away look in Cas’s eyes which meant, no doubt, that he was reflecting on their first meeting as well. 

“Not exactly,” Cas began, as Dean held his breath. “Dean was in the right place at the right time, is all.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s done with those middle of the night shifts,” Bobby said and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the dad voice. 

The days were getting shorter and soon Dean would be heading to the bakery while the sky was still pitch black, but no doubt it was nice to sleep reasonable, uninterrupted hours at night. At least he didn’t have to be there as early as Cas did—oh shit, Cas must be exhausted by now. Dean looked at Cas just in time to see him hide a yawn behind his hand.

“Dude, you must be beat.”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“He’s the one up in the middle of the night to get things started,” Dean explained. 

Ellen stood and took Cas’s empty plate. “That drive will tire you out, too. Not to mention all those teenagers. We’ll take care of this. You head on up.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can help.” Cas reached for some dishes but Bobby moved them out of his grasp.

“You heard the lady. Better do what she says or she’ll be dragging you up those stairs by your ear next.”

Cas looked mildly horrified, like maybe that was an actual possibility, and Dean felt warmth flood through his chest. Bobby wouldn’t be talking to Cas like that if he didn’t like him. 

“I’ll help clean up,” Dean said. 

“Ok. I’d like to take a shower, if that’s all right?”

“Of course it is. Dean, go get some towels out of the hall closet for him.”

“If you tell me where they are I can—“

“Dean can do it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said, modeling the proper response for Cas. 

Upstairs, he rifled through the closet, choosing a couple of the nicest, fluffiest towels for him. When he got to their room (their room!) Cas was digging through his bag. “Here you go.” He tried really hard not to think about Cas taking a shower. Because that meant thinking about Cas being naked. Which shouldn’t be weird because everybody took showers and they all had to get naked to do so. It wasn’t weird. It was what people did. Whoops, he was still standing there holding the towels. He set them on the bed and hurried back downstairs.

By the time he stacked the rest of the dirty dishes and carried them into the kitchen, Bobby was standing at the sink with an apron tied around his waist. “That’s a good look.”

“You wanna do this? Then shut it.” Dean laughed and added his stack of dishes to the soapy water. He grabbed a towel and started drying, working in pleasant, quiet camaraderie. When he went to put the clean dishes away in the cabinet near where Ellen was wiping the stovetop, she knocked into his hip with hers. 

“I like that Cas.”

“He’s been a great boss,” Dean said. 

Ellen narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure he has.” 

After the kitchen was clean, Bobby made one last circle through the downstairs, checking that the doors were locked and the front light was on for Jo. Even though Dean was an adult perfectly capable of protecting himself, he felt comforted by watching the old man engage in the familiar routine. With the the house secured, they said goodnight to Dean who stood in the empty living room for a minute, before deciding it might be smart to go get himself ready for bed while Cas was still in the shower. 

He could hear the water running when he got upstairs, but it turned off almost as soon as he entered their room. A surprisingly short time later, Cas came down the hall in pajama pants, bare-chested with his towel slung over one shoulder. His hair was still wet but he must’ve scrubbed at it with the towel because it stuck up in every imaginable direction. Dean clutched his own pajamas to his chest. “Hey.”

Cas closed the door behind him. “Hey.”

“I should…just…” Dean took a step toward the doorway but Cas didn’t give up any ground and they stood inches apart, close enough that Dean could see a drop of water run down from behind Cas’s ear, along his neck toward his shoulder. He was struck by a desire to catch it with his tongue. 

“Dean,” Cas said, so softly that it hurt Dean to hear it. Cas reached for him and Dean froze, barely breathing until he realized that Cas was gently taking the pajamas out of his hands. He dropped them on the foot of the bed, then reached for Dean again. This time he kissed him. 

[](https://ibb.co/nuD52b)

In a matter of seconds, Dean had Cas’s back up against the door. The latch rattled as he bumped against it but Dean didn’t care because Cas had wrapped his arms around him and pulled him flush against his body, kissing him for all he was worth. Dean got his hands on Cas’s bare skin, threaded them through his damp hair, and tried to get even closer. They kissed, barely coming up for air, until the sound of someone walking around downstairs caught their attention. Dean pulled back, nearly panting and almost afraid to meet Cas’s eyes. Maybe the spell had been broken. When Cas pushed a little at his shoulder, backing him up, Dean wasn’t even surprised. He took another step away, but Cas grabbed his hand, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed. Cas sat beside him and, without a word, he had his hands on Dean’s face, leaning in to kiss him some more. 

Dean felt giddy as he tried to memorize the feel of Cas’s mouth on him. He deepened their kiss and Cas accepted it hungrily, sliding their tongues together. Dean wanted to crawl into his lap or push him down onto the bed or anything that would allow him to get his hands and mouth on more exposed skin. Making a decision, he broke off their kiss long enough to reposition himself and kneel on the floor between Cas’s legs. 

Cas looked down at him with something akin to awe, and Dean surged up to meet his mouth even as he kneaded Cas’s thighs through the flannel of his pants. From this position, it was easy for Dean to traverse the length of Cas’s neck, down across his collarbone, licking and kissing down his sternum until he detoured to flick his tongue over a nipple. Cas gasped and gripped Dean’s shoulders, digging his fingers in somewhere between a massage and holding on for dear life. Dean smiled against his skin, savoring the way his nipple hardened under Dean’s tongue, sliding his hand to thumb at the other one. He lavished attention on them until Cas was spreading his legs even wider and canting his hips upward. With one last scrape of teeth over the sensitive flesh, Dean moved his attentions downward. He slid his hands down along Cas’s sides, tugging at the elastic of his waistband until the sharp jut of his hipbones were exposed. He traced around one with his tongue, letting his thumbs tease lower before kissing a hot, wet line across to the other side. 

Cas was making breathy sounds now, sounds Dean was pretty sure would be whimpers if they were some place more private, and the thought of what other noises he could wring out of him had Dean palming his own hard-on in his jeans to give himself a bit of relief. When Cas couldn’t take the teasing any longer, he shoved Dean’s hand away and pushed his pajamas down until they were mid-thigh and Dean was treated to the sight of his erection straining against his underwear. Dean nuzzled at it, feeling the firmness of it as he mouthed at it through his boxer briefs, sucking lightly at the tip where the cotton was already damp. Dean traced the length of it with skimming fingers, teasing them along the waistband until Cas was beginning to shift beneath him, desperate for a real touch. As soon as Dean freed him from the confines of his underwear, Cas had both hands in Dean’s hair. His touch was gentle, but Dean wanted more. He wanted Cas to hold him right where he wanted him so he took his own hands and firmly covered Cas’s as he took his cock into his mouth. Cas got with the program immediately, clutching at Dean as he thrust up experimentally. Dean took in more of his length, moaning his gratitude as Cas held him tightly. Dean threaded their fingers together for just a moment before leaving Cas in charge while he wrapped one hand around whatever he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

He’d never had anybody up in this room before, not like this. Bobby’s house was a home, a place where he didn’t have to be anything he didn’t want to be, and there had never been a time when he would’ve felt right having one of those quick encounters that were the hallmark of his younger days under Bobby’s roof. There were always other places for that when he was a teenager: a field, an alley, the back of the Impala. It felt a little strange to be doing this with Cas in the same room he used to share with his little brother, but it somehow felt incredibly right. 

As Cas tugged at his hair, Dean bobbed his head, enjoying the way Cas’s cock filled his mouth. He licked around the underside and darted the tip of his tongue into the slit, carefully cataloging what Cas responded to by the way his breath hitched. When he used his free hand to twist at a nipple, Cas held his head in place with an almost punishing grip that caused Dean to groan in utter delight. That delight turned to dismay when Cas let go with one hand, but a split second later that changed again when he realized Cas was using it to cover his own mouth to stifle the sound as his orgasm approached. Dean kept up his pace, grateful for the rug under his knees, until Cas arched towards him, and Dean felt him pulsing into his mouth. Dean caught what he could, but he was a little out of practice and he had to pull off to breathe. Some splattered on the side of his face and he watched, blinking, as the rest coated Cas’s chest. Cas gave Dean a sort of weak pat on the head as he released him, and fell backwards, supporting his weight on his elbows. 

Dean grinned at him. “You good?”

Cas looked like he’d lost all power of speech but he fluttered his eyelashes at Dean before managing a whispered, “Yeah.”

Dean leaned in to kiss him again, slow and dirty, knowing Cas could taste himself in Dean’s mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Dean admitted. 

Cas brushed his thumb through the sticky mess on Dean’s cheek and Dean reached up to grab his wrist and direct it toward his mouth. Cas’s eyes widened. “Jesus, look at you.“  He watched in amazement as Dean sucked his thumb clean and then kissed his palm. Then he reached for Dean’s belt. 

“Hang on,” Dean said gently and got to his feet. He found the discarded towel and handed it to Cas. Before settling back onto the bed, Dean shed his top layer and switched off the light. 

Cas was on him in a heartbeat, kissing him and snaking a hand under his t-shirt. Dean let him push him back until they were both lying down, forced to overlap on the narrow bed. Cas had his hands everywhere, gliding across Dean’s chest, cupping his ass through his jeans to pull their hips closer. He kissed Dean eagerly, covering his mouth and face and neck, his stubble prickling Dean’s skin in a way that set his nerve endings on fire. Dean rolled onto his side, trying to generate some friction against Cas’s leg and as soon as Cas felt the press of him, his hands moved to his belt. Dean was torn between giving up the pressure of Cas’s firm thigh and giving Cas room to work, but the decision was made for him when Cas rolled him onto his back and straddled his leg, pulling back enough to get his belt undone and his jeans opened. 

There was no teasing, no tentative touches. Cas went right for it, palming Dean’s dick before slipping his hand inside his underwear. He stroked Dean with a sure and steady grip, using his thumb to smear the precome beading there. Dean rocked his hips up with a whine of frustration until Cas worked him free of the confining waistband. Finally exposed, the air felt blissfully cool on Dean’s overheated skin. Cas kissed a trail down Dean’s stomach, his hand still loosely wrapped around him. Settling back on his heels, he pressed his tongue to the tip of Dean’s cock, lapping at it lightly before swirling his tongue around the head. Dean whimpered a little, and the bed squeaked as he squirmed, trying to get more, but when Cas started to push his jeans down from his hips, Dean stilled and Cas froze his movement in response. There was no time for words, so Dean just reached down to tug Cas back up to lie beside him. Cas brought his hand to Dean’s face, cupping his jaw and kissing him softly in silent question. Dean answered by bringing Cas’s hand back down between his legs. With Cas kissing him and his long fingers working their magic, Dean lost himself in the sensation, holding as still as he could to prevent the bed from making any more noise than it already was. He made soft, wordless sounds when Cas turned his attention to his ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and licking at the sensitive skin behind it. When Dean felt his orgasm coil and build, when he couldn’t keep still any longer, he clutched Cas’s shoulder and buried his face in his neck, gasping as he came. 

Cas held him then, wrapping an arm around his back to keep him close as he slowly caught his breath. He pressed tiny kisses along the top of Dean’s head, down to his temple, and across his cheek. When Dean finally came out of the safe place that was Cas’s shoulder, Cas kissed him gently on the lips. 

They lay there in silence, curled together, until Dean started to drift off. He jolted awake when Cas started to pull away, but he was only reaching off the side of the bed for the towel. Once they were both sufficiently wiped off, Cas pushed up on one elbow. “Did you want me to…”

It was a ridiculous thought. They were two grown men, each over six feet tall. No way could they stay crammed together in a twin bed. Dean would be able to hear him breathing from across the room. He’d know Cas was there, barely a few steps away, and they’d both get some rest. Dean reached up and fit his hand around Cas’s bicep. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“If you’re sure.”

In the confined space, Dean managed to wriggle off his jeans the rest of the way. He tossed them in the general direction of the other bed. Probably he should get up and find his pajamas but that would mean climbing over Cas and he was already so warm and sleepy. It was dark, he could sleep in his boxers. “I’m sure.”

It took a while for them to get comfortable with elbows and knees constantly jabbing or somebody’s arm going numb, but it didn’t matter because there were also fingers combing through Dean’s hair, and Dean’s thumb stroking along Cas’s hip, and soft sleepy kisses. 

Apparently they found a comfortable enough position because Dean fell asleep. The next thing he knew the barest beginnings of early morning light lit the window and he was being woken up by the feel of Cas’s mouth at the back of his neck. Cas was nearly draped over him, making Dean the littlest spoon to ever spoon, and Dean soon became aware of Cas slowly rocking his hips up against him. Not surprisingly, Dean found himself in a similar state of arousal and he reached back to get a hand on Cas’s butt to pull him closer. Cas’s breath was hot on his neck and he groaned a little as Dean pushed back against him. With a thrill, Dean thought about what they could do when they had time and space and condoms and lube. Cas must’ve had the same thought because, after a flurry of motion behind him, Dean’s ass was uncovered and Cas was gliding his cock between his thighs. 

“For now,” Cas murmured in his ear, reaching forward to slide Dean’s boxers all the way down. Dean was warm and hazy with sleep so he let him, and it wasn’t until he felt Cas’s hand hesitate on the front of his thighs that he remembered why he generally kept them on. Cas skimmed his hand over the scars, and somehow Dean could feel the question in his touch. It was a brief thing, a momentary glancing, but enough that Dean knew there’d be a conversation later. Fuck it, though, because Cas’s hand was back on his cock and it felt so good that Dean decided to roll with it. And roll he did, his hips forward into the tight circle of Cas’s hand, and backwards to feel Cas thrust so close to where Dean truly wanted him. The way was slicked with sweat and precome and Cas got Dean off with relative ease, especially once he bit lightly at his shoulder. Cas continued to rut up against him but, once Dean came down from his orgasm, he needed to see Cas. Rolling over, he reached between them to jack him, kissing him despite the morning breath they were both sporting. Their movements were sweet and unhurried, awkward and cramped, and more than Dean had ever hoped for. When Cas got close, he clung to Dean, whispering nonsense that Dean couldn’t make out but that he took as encouragement. When Cas came, spilling over Dean’s fist, he did so with a choked off moan and a breathy sigh. 

“I can’t wait to get you in a real bed,” Cas said, his voice so rough in the early morning that a shiver ran down Dean’s spine. 

“I was thinking bunk beds next.” Cas laughed at that, sudden and clear with his nose crinkling and everything, and Dean grinned at him, pleased to have been the cause of it. Dean propped himself up on one elbow to check the clock on the nightstand between the two beds. “Is this what happens when you sleep with a baker? Pre-dawn wake up sex?”

“It’s a terrible habit.” Cas burrowed back down under the covers. “Please forgive me.”

Unable to reach the towel, Dean wiped his hand on the sheet and then used it to dab at Cas’s stomach. “Looks like I’ll be starting laundry.”

Cas skimmed his hands up and down Dean’s body and soon enough he was back to Dean’s thighs, gently tracing the fingertip sized spots where the skin was extra smooth. Cas didn’t say anything but Dean blew out a deep breath.  “Burns.”

“From when you were little?” 

“Uh, sort of.” Dean was glad it wasn’t fully light yet. He didn’t want to see the look of pity or disgust on Cas’s face.  “I told you my dad blamed me for the fire.”

“Yes.” Cas took Dean’s hands in his own and waited for him to continue. 

“My dad…went through a real bad phase for a while.” Well, for the rest of his life, really. But some times were worse than others and the worst one came when Dean was nine years old. Dean could still hear his voice, the way he sneered as he held Dean by the arm with a bruising grip. _Better make sure these are all the way out_. “He used to put his cigarettes out on me.”

He heard Cas’s sharp inhale of breath. Dean knew it wasn’t his fault, at least most of the time. Every now and then that voice came back and connected all the dots in his mind, doubling down on the way his dad used to accuse him of killing his mom and ruining Sammy’s life. He knew what his dad did to him wasn’t his fault, either, but it wasn’t always easy to put it behind him with the scars there every day as a reminder. They were a part of him, something he’d kept hidden for a long time to prevent Sam from being taken away and, once that was no longer a concern, something he kept to himself. If knowing about them meant Cas would decide that Dean was more fucked up than he was willing to deal with, then probably it was just as well that it was coming out now, before things went too far. 

Cas didn’t say anything for a long time. Dean didn’t either, but he let Cas keep holding his hands. Finally he brought Dean’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the knuckle. “Ok,” he whispered. Dean could feel the quiver of his lip against his skin. That was unexpected. 

“I’m fine, Cas.” He tried to pull his hand away. He didn’t need to be pitied. 

Cas let him go immediately. “I know you are.” Cas swiped at one eye with the heel of his hand. “It means a lot that you would share that with me.”

“Oh.” Dean kissed him because he couldn’t think of what else to say. Cas kissed him back, harder than before, and pulled him close. Dean fell asleep again with his head resting on Cas’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

The next time they woke, it was to the sun streaming in and a clatter of pots and pans from downstairs. Reluctantly, Dean untangled himself and sat up, rolling the kinks out of his back. When Cas cracked open one eye at a time and then smiled up at him, Dean felt his heart leap with a jolt that made up for the lack of coffee in his system. 

“We gotta get up.”

Cas sighed. “I suppose so.” He narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Can we do this again?”

Dean shrugged as casually as he could. “Yeah, why not?” Cas’s answering grin put a little spring in his step as he headed for the bathroom.

When Dean got back from his quick shower, Cas was still lying in bed. “Now you’re lazy? You had me up in the middle of the night but now you won’t get out of bed?

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Cas said, with one eyebrow raised. “What I did hear was—“

“Oh my God, I have to go face my family now. Don’t start.” Dean shoved clothes back in his duffel and once Cas finally got up, Dean pulled the sheets off the bed and gathered up the dirty towel. “A good house guest strips the bed, right?” 

Cas threw a look at the perfectly made second bed. “That doesn’t look suspicious at all.”

Swearing, Dean dropped the pile in his arms and hurriedly stripped the other bed. He gathered up the entire pile and Cas followed him out the door, slapping his ass just before they got to the bottom of the steps. Dean stifled a yelp and bought himself a little reprieve by heading straight to the basement to start the washer. By the time he got back upstairs, Cas was studying a piece of paper as he drank his coffee. 

Dean went to go help in the kitchen, but Cas stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he passed. Dean smiled down at him, but Cas looked serious. 

“What is it?” Dean asked, his heart in his throat.

Cas indicated the paper. “Ellen wrote me out the bourbon apple pie recipe. I don’t mean to be rude, but…” Dean picked up the paper to study it. “Is she the type who might leave out an ingredient on purpose?”

Cas looked so serious, like this was a life or death matter, that Dean couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve caught on quickly. I’ll handle this.”

By the time he came back out with his own cup of coffee and a plate of food, Ellen had updated the recipe to include the nutmeg she’d “forgotten”. 

“Is she mad?” Cas asked softly. 

Ellen came out with Cas’s plate piled noticeably higher than Dean’s. Dean shook his head. “Impressed,” he stage whispered just as Jo staggered downstairs in her pajamas in search of food. 

Despite the big breakfast and the fact that the drive was only six hours, Ellen packed them up at least enough food for two more meals. And despite the fact that Dean thought they’d been playing it cool, when Ellen hugged him good-bye on the front porch, she whispered, “Happy for you, kid.” Then she pulled him back into the house to grab a couple of water bottles for the road, which left Bobby outside with Cas. 

Cas gave him such a beseeching look when he came outside that Dean hurried down the porch steps. Bobby stood near the trunk, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Cas. To refocus his attention, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for having us, old man.”

Bobby pulled Dean into a half-hug then stood there with an arm still around him. He nodded pointedly toward Cas and Dean froze because _oh my God was he going to give Cas the talk?_ Instead he turned to Dean. “You bring this one back again.” The he gave Dean a shove in Cas’s direction.

Cas smiled as Dean took his hand. “Thank you for everything.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Before the bakery opened to customers, Cas called a staff meeting for the sole purpose of presenting the change in his and Dean’s relationship status and assuring Charlie and Kevin that Dean would not be receiving any special treatment as a result. While Dean knew it had to be done, it didn’t stop him from sitting at the table hoping for a batch of dough to proof until it reached a big enough size to swallow him whole. When Cas encouraged them to speak to him privately if anyone felt that this was inappropriate behavior, Charlie pointed out that workplace conditions were bound to improve exponentially now that the sexual tension was finally resolved. Then she and Kevin high-fived. Cas blushed, a look so adorable that Dean had to stop himself from kissing him right there and then as he adjourned the meeting.  

Even though they had both agreed to take things slowly—well, as slowly as two people who spent most of their waking hours together could—Dean found himself firmly ensconced in a relationship. With no real obligations at home, Dean was free to say yes to whatever he and Cas wanted to do. It was new and almost luxurious to make decisions in such an indulgent way, and definitely better than sitting around in an empty apartment waiting for his brother to throw him a scrap of communication. 

There were dinners together and time spent hanging out at each other’s apartments watching movies. There was grocery shopping together which shouldn’t have been fun but was, especially when Cas glared at the packaged baked goods. There was companionship over meals that Dean cooked, and a surprising amount of cuddling. Dean found he craved both of these almost as much as the can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you beginning of a relationship sex.

It was during one of those moments, when they were half-napping together on a rainy afternoon in early October, that Dean got brave enough to ask the question he’d wanted to ask from the start.  

Dean had his face buried in the crook of Cas’s neck, slowly becoming more and more boneless while Cas ran his fingers through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” There was no hesitation in Cas’s reply and his voice rumbled through Dean’s chest in an extremely pleasant way. 

Face still hidden, Dean put it out there. “Why didn’t you let the cops arrest me that night?”

With a firm but gentle hand, Cas pushed at Dean’s shoulder until he could look him in the eye. “Because you looked as lost as I had felt at one time, and I thought you could use a little kindness instead of one more obstacle.” He paused. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Dean _had_ been lost, with nearly every part of him laser-focused on Sam leaving, when it felt like everything he knew and held dear would come to an end. “You did, Cas. A huge one.”

Cas frowned. “No, that’s not what I mean. I thought that I had something to teach you but…it’s been the other way around.” With one hand he cupped Dean’s face, letting his thumb trail a lazy line under his bottom lip. “You’ve been subjected to the worst in people and somehow you’re still able to seek out the best in others. You have every right to be bitter and angry, but instead you look for ways to raise up the people around you. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Dean tried to duck his head, overwhelmed by the sentiment and the _not quite I love you_. “You can’t just say shit like that, Cas.”

In response, Cas rolled him onto his back, holding him securely in place with the comforting weight of his body, his eyes shining with affection. “I can and I will.”

Dean swallowed hard, feeling his heart beating against his ribs and the echoing response of Cas’s. “Of all the windows in the world, I’m glad I disgraced myself in front of yours.”

Cas laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “Me, too.”

*

By the middle of October, it looked like Halloween had thrown up all over the bakery. Anything that could be infused with pumpkin was, and Dean was surprised to see Cas continuing to bring in decorations. As Dean made Cas a pumpkin spice latte, he kept one eye on the way his boyfriend re-arranged some fake spider web Charlie had affixed to the front window. 

“Oh sure, when Charlie gets stuff all over the window it’s _festive,”_ Dean grumbled. “When I do it, you call the cops.”

Cas smiled at him, keeping their fingers touching for an extra moment as he took the cup and admired the web pattern Dean had drawn on top.  “Are you complaining about how that turned out for you?”

Dean shrugged, but he couldn’t help smiling back. “I mean, I learned how to make espresso, so there’s that I guess.” He’d added pumpkins to his latte art skills as well. He’d already known how to do hearts but only now did he put them on Cas’s drink sometimes. (Once, when they had a date night scheduled, he’d hurriedly and furtively drawn a dick.) 

Cas surveyed the front with a critical eye. “Maybe we should get some of those mini pumpkins to put on the tables.”

“It’s like autumn exploded all over this place already.” Dean perked up. “Like an autumn bomb went off.” Cas looked at him, unmoved. “Autumn bomb? Get it?”

“Pretty sure you can fire him for that, boss,” Charlie helpfully pointed out. 

Cas tipped his head like he was considering it, so Dean quickly changed the subject. “I gotta say, I didn’t take you for such a Halloween kind of guy.”

Cas leaned one hip against the counter. “Somehow, Missouri talked my parents into letting us celebrate it. It was one of the rare times we were allowed candy as kids. I guess I still have a fond association.”

Dean thought about the way Gabe’s coffee order was more dessert than drink, and the candy he always kept stashed in his pockets. In terms of devoting one’s life to sugar, he couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than opening an actual bakery. “So, basically you built an entire career around spiting your parents.”

Cas blinked, a little startled. “I...never thought about it that way.”

“Missouri would be proud.”

*

The weather turned cold and, as the leaves blazed fully with their fall colors, Dean felt Sam’s absence more acutely. There was something about the changing of the seasons that made it seem like he’d been gone longer than six weeks. 

Sometimes Dean was sure that things had finally come together with Cas because they’d both been ready, but sometimes he worried that he was using Cas as a distraction to get through this transition in his life. As a result, Dean knew he had to pace things to make sure he wasn’t asking Cas for something he needed to be providing for himself. It was part of their decision from the start to take it slow and, as tempting as it was to spend all their time together, they made sure to give each other some breathing room. 

Tonight, “breathing room” looked like Dean flopped on the couch with a bowl of cereal balanced on his chest as he watched television. He startled when his phone rang, nearly sloshing milk on himself. Maybe it was Ellen calling to check in and he’d have to admit that he had little new to report on Sam since the last time they’d talked. If how infrequently he heard from him was any indication, the kid must be up to his eyeballs in classes and school work. Still balancing the bowl, he scooped up his phone from where he’d left it on the floor. 

It was Cas. Frowning, he answered it. “Hello?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Okay, first off, Cas never called him. Secondly, he sounded like the old Cas...subdued and distant. Dean put the cereal bowl on the floor and scrambled to sit up, like the change in position would somehow leave him less vulnerable for whatever came next. “Hey, what’s up?”

There was a long silence that left Dean holding his breath. “I hope you don’t mind that I called. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Of course not. What’s going on?”

“After talking about Missouri the other day, I decided to look her up to tell her about the bakery.” There was a long pause while Cas took a deep breath. “I was able to get in touch with one of her children and apparently she passed away last month.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dean held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he put on his shoes. “I know she was important to you.” 

“Very much. I hadn’t even seen her in at least ten years. I didn’t expect that this would hit me so hard.”

“She was a big part of your life growing up. That doesn’t go away just because you fell out of touch.” He wrangled himself into his coat, then grabbed his keys and pulled the front door closed behind him.

Cas sighed. “I suppose.” Now that he knew what was wrong, Dean let the silence sit between them as he continued to make his way down the block. A truck rumbled past him, apparently loud enough for Cas to hear. “Are you out somewhere? I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You aren’t bothering me at all. I’m just—” he stopped walking, realizing he’d made this decision on his own. “I’m on my way over to see you…if that’s ok?”

“More than ok.” Cas sounded the slightest bit lighter. 

Dean smiled and continued in his direction. “We can keep talking while I walk, if you want.”

*

Cas insisted he was fine, but he let Dean fix him some tea and they sat side by side on the couch. Staring off into the distance, Cas let out a huff of breath.

“What?” Dean prompted.

“She’s been gone for almost a month and it feels wrong that I’ve been walking around completely unaffected.”

“You didn’t know,” Dean reminded him. 

“It seems like I should’ve known somehow.” Agitated, he rubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I know now, at least.”

Dean nudged him gently with his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for not being psychic.”

“I suppose not.” Cas managed a weak smile before his face turned solemn again. “There was a time when she knew me better than anyone on earth. She knew I was gay long before I did.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She always encouraged me to ‘be true to myself’ which didn’t make any sense to me until one day it did. And she ran a lot of interference between me and my mother.”

Dean laughed. “I’ll bet she did.”

“I remember one time I was in a school play and Missouri helped me learn my lines. I was so nervous but she’d read the other parts in funny voices until I laughed.” His face softened at the memory. “I wanted her to come see me in the play, but my mother said she had to stay home with Anna, who was a baby at the time. I suggested _she_ stay home with Anna instead.” Dean grimaced. “You can imagine how well that went over.” Cas sighed. “My mother told me that Missouri had her place and that I should remember mine.”

Dean set down his cup and put an arm around Cas, who leaned heavily against him. “That’s shitty.”

“Missouri was the one I went to when I was hurt or when I got a good grade on a test. She always made time for me and I feel like I’ve failed her somehow.”

“I dunno, man. I think she’d be pretty proud to know what you’ve accomplished and the way she inspired you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’s head then rested his cheek there, despite the tickle of Cas’s hair. They sat there for a long time, comfortable and together. 

Cas sat forward to put his empty mug on the table. Then he took Dean’s face in both hands and kissed him. “Look at me, being true to myself.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, that too.”

Cas smiled back, then his face turned serious and he looked away, chewing his lip and looking conflicted enough that Dean mentally prepared himself for the walk home. ”Would you...mind staying here tonight?”

“If that’s what you want.” 

Cas got to his feet and held out a hand to pull Dean up. It’s not like they hadn’t spent the night together before, but it was usually a pre-planned thing. Cas offered him use of his toothbrush, which Dean readily accepted and which felt almost like a bigger deal than spending the night. Stripped down to t-shirts and boxers, they climbed into Cas’s bed and Dean pulled Cas tightly up against him, arms wrapped around him as Cas rested his cheek on Dean’s chest. Ostensibly, he knew he was there to comfort Cas, but felt flush with comfort himself, warm and safe and needed. No words necessary, he carded his fingers through Cas’s hair until they both fell asleep.

*

The block of businesses around Jimmy’s was hosting a family-friendly Halloween celebration. A few days beforehand, Cas spent time after closing to bake up batches of cookies to hand out to the trick or treaters. Dean stuck around to help, waving off Cas’s promise of overtime although he nearly reconsidered when Cas ran upstairs to change and came back down in yet another pair of cargo shorts. 

“How many pairs of those things do you own?”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Maybe if you kept your eyes off my ass it wouldn’t be such an issue.”

Hands on hips, Dean shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Then quit complaining.” 

Working together, it didn’t take long for them to bake batches of sugar cookies shaped like pumpkins and bats. When the last trays came out of the oven, Cas stretched his arms over his head. “Let’s clean up. I’ll get these frosted tomorrow.” Dean admired the flour handprint he'd left on his ass. 

Clean up took longer than it should have because half-way though, Dean found himself pressed up against the stainless steel work table with Cas kissing him nearly senseless. 

“You know,” Dean said, his breath ragged, “You weren’t exactly subtle the day you showed me how to make the cinnamon rolls.” He ended with a little yelp when Cas bit at his earlobe. 

“Apparently I wasn’t obvious enough because we didn’t end up like this that day.”

Dean tipped his head back while Cas kissed his way down his neck. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Partially.”

Dean captured his mouth and they kissed some more. “Partially?”

“I wanted more than just kissing.” Cas hoisted Dean up until he was sitting on the table, and stood between his spread knees. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas and pulled himself closer so that they could grind together. 

“I just cleaned this table,” Dean lamented. 

“You should try being less alluring, then.”

Dean smirked. “I can’t help it. It just comes naturally.” He got his nipple twisted for that and let out a breathy sound that had Cas grinning. Dean rolled his eyes. “What do you say we go upstairs?”

“That’s too far away,” Cas complained. 

Cas kissed him until his head started to swim both from desire and lack of oxygen. Dean pulled away to breathe. “It’s literally right up those stairs.”

“Nope. Too far.” He reached between them and palmed at Dean’s erection. 

Dean managed a laugh at that. “You’d better hope the health inspector doesn’t show up any time soon.”

That was enough to stop Cas in his tracks. Looking around, he stepped back. “You make an excellent point.” 

“If that’s your reaction, then it was a terrible point.” But Dean shuffled his ass off the edge of the table to stand again. He reached for Cas’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Cas pulled him close again. “I want you down here.”

The thought of being with Cas here in the bakery was undeniably hot. Even though everything was closed up for the night, there were windows and open spaces and Dean shivered a little at the thought of being so exposed. But they made food here and well, there were some lines he didn’t think he could cross. “I thought we just established that wouldn’t work.”

Cas led him to the break room. “I want to fuck you down here.” 

Dean felt himself harden at the very words. “But we don’t have—“

Cas cut him off with another kiss. Then he unbuttoned one of the pockets in his cargo shorts and pulled out a condom. With his other hand, he unzipped a pocket on the other side and produced a bottle of lube. 

Dean stared at him in amazement. “I take back every word.”

“I thought you might.” Cas set the items on the table, then turned Dean around until he was facing it. He draped himself over Dean’s back, hands roaming everywhere as he kissed the back of his neck. Dean let himself go pliant, giving himself over to Cas’s touch. 

Cas reached for Dean’s belt and opened his fly, dipping his hand down into his open jeans to trace along the lines of his cock. He thumbed around the tip, feeling the damp spot there and Dean pressed his ass back in offering. Cas responded by sliding his free hand up under Dean’s t-shirt, pinching and rolling each nipple in turn with the sure fingers that Dean loved, leaving the flesh there red and sensitive. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, almost a plea. His head fell back against Cas’s shoulder. 

“Soon,” Cas promised and worked Dean’s jeans and underwear down to his ankles. His fingers moved gently over Dean’s scars and Dean knew that if he weren’t facing away, Cas would take the time to kiss each one. Instead, Cas got to his knees behind him. With Cas no longer there to lean against, Dean let his hands fall to the table, shuddering in anticipation when Cas dragged his thumb along Dean’s crack, before taking two handfuls of Dean’s ass and spreading it so that he could bury his face there. 

At the first touch of his tongue, Dean moaned. The door to the break room was open and, even if it weren’t, there was a window in the wall that looked back into the kitchen. He shivered at the thought of someone coming in and seeing him like this, spread open and whimpering, slowly losing all power of coherent thought as Cas licked at him with broad swipes and short, darting jabs of his tongue. His cock pearled with precome and he stopped caring that this table was where people ate their lunches. 

Cas kept at it until Dean was writhing, desperate for more. When he started to babble nonsense, Cas slipped a lubed finger inside him and Dean gasped in surprise, both at the sudden intrusion and the fact that in his fog of arousal he’d never noticed Cas retrieving the lube from the table. 

When Cas added a second finger, Dean couldn’t keep himself upright any longer. He shoved a chair out of the way so that he could lower his upper body onto the table, cushioning himself with his arms as he rocked back onto Cas’s hand. He could only imagine how he looked with his head down and his ass up but he didn’t care. Cas wanted him, and being desired so passionately was intoxicating in and of itself. 

At some point Cas got to his feet again and, when he pulled his fingers out, he pushed up Dean’s shirt and kissed upward along the knobs of Dean’s spine. Dean heard the click of the lube bottle and his cock gave another spurt of pre-come. _Like Pavlov’s dog hearing that goddamn bell_ , he thought, almost deliriously. “Please, Cas, please. I’m ready.”

“You’re perfect,” Cas said and pushed into him. With one smooth motion, his slick length slid all the way in, and he braced a hand between Dean’s shoulder blades as he began to thrust. 

Finally filled, Dean groaned and tried to get his feet even further apart, but they were restricted by the clothes down around his ankles. Instead, he arched back into Cas’s thrusts urging him to move faster. Dean heard a chair tip over, clattering to the floor with a sound that echoed through the empty building. The table shifted and squeaked against the tiled floor as Cas took hold of Dean’s hips so that he could fuck into him harder, and Dean scrabbled his fingers against the formica tabletop desperately trying to get purchase. As Cas got close, he pulled Dean up until he was supporting his weight on his hands, giving Cas enough room to reach around and pump Dean’s cock in time with his thrusts. Cas slid his other palm up and along the back of Dean’s neck until it tangled in his hair, and that’s when Dean felt the heat coiling in his groin spill over. Limp with pleasure, he let Cas tug his head back by his hair as he reached his own orgasm. 

Dean collapsed down onto his forearms and Cas pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades, panting. “If Charlie and Kevin ever find out…” 

Cas slipped out of him, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash that would soon be taken to the dumpster out back. He pulled Dean upright and hugged him from behind, surveying the mess he’d left on the table. “Perhaps a tablecloth is in order.” 

Laughing, Dean relaxed against him. “I’m just glad we didn’t end up with butter as lube.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean.” He turned Dean around and gestured at the aerosol cans of non-stick spray lined up on the supply shelf. “Baker’s Joy is the obvious choice.” Dean let out a sound somewhere between a pffffft and a wheeze as Cas practically purred in his ear. “It’s known for its quick release.”


	12. Chapter 12

On Halloween, Dean stayed to help with the neighborhood party. After they got the cookies all ready to hand out, they changed into their costumes in the break room where, coincidentally, a waterproof holiday tablecloth now covered the table.

Despite Cas having dismissed nearly all of Dean’s costume suggestions, they’d found something to wear.

(“How about Batman and Robin?”

Cas squinted in thought. “Can I be Batman?”

“What the fuck. No way.”

“Then no.”

Dean folded his arms across his chest and shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not gonna be Robin.”

“We could both be Batman. Batmen!” Cas looked decidedly pleased with himself. 

“Forget it,” Dean said. “Spock and Kirk?”

“I’ve never seen Star Wars.”

Dean smacked himself in the forehead. “Why did I think dating you was a good idea?” Cas waggled his eyebrows at him. Dean smiled. “Ok, we could do angel and devil.”

“Halloween is on a Sunday this year.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can only be an angel on Thursdays.”

“That’s…” Dean sputtered. “That’s not how it works.”

“Are _you_ named after an angel?” He waited while Dean shook his head. “Then how do you know?”)

In the end, after fighting over who got to be Harry (“Look at my hair, Dean!” “Green eyes, Cas!”), they’d decided to go as random Hogwarts students (Dean was totally Harry) with black robes and Gryffindor scarves. 

A cold rain was falling so that the kids who showed up had to wear jackets over their costumes, but it didn’t seem to impede their fun. The good news about “family friendly” was that it started and ended early. The bad news was that it meant overly-sugared, excited children ran wild in the bakery. By the time the event was done, there were wet footprints to mop and an abundance of smeary fingerprints to clean from every surface. It took awhile, but with the bakery finally back in order and both of them exhausted, Cas tugged Dean upstairs by his scarf.

“Why did you let me eat so many cookies?” Dean complained. 

Cas collapsed on the couch. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I thought after a while I’d be immune to your baking.”

Cas let his eyes drift shut. “I blame my mother.”

Dean laughed. “Always a safe bet. Ok, I think we need some protein.” He wandered into the kitchen. “Eggs?”

Cas nodded but stayed flopped on the couch while Dean scrambled them up some cheesy eggs.

When they were ready, Cas staggered into the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek. “Yer a wizard, ‘arry.”

‘Ha!” Dean waved the spatula like a wand. “I knew I was Harry.”

After eating, they left the dishes in the sink and fell into bed, grateful to be able to sleep late the next morning. 

But it was still pitch black when Dean was awakened by the insistent sound of his phone buzzing. By the time he slapped around on the nightstand for it, it had stopped but he checked it anyhow, with his eyes squinted against the brightness of the display. It was 4:17 a.m. and he had two missed calls from a number he didn’t recognize, but with a California area code. With a rush of panic, he sat up, causing Cas to shift and make a small noise of displeasure as he pulled at the covers. Still fuzzy with sleep, Dean started to check for a voicemail but as he did, the phone began to ring again. He swiped to answer it, turning to get out of bed.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Dean Winchester?” It was a female voice speaking over a noisy background. Dean could hear other voices and the ringing of a telephone.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Mr. Winchester, my name is Pamela Barnes and I’m a social worker at Stanford University Medical Center. I’m calling because your brother Sam has been brought in here tonight.”

“What happened? Is he ok?” Dean felt his stomach clench and although he tried to stay calm he could hear the way his voice cracked. 

“It appears he’s intoxicated but he’s unconscious so we’re running some other tests to make sure there’s nothing else going on.” 

Dean hurried to the kitchen, flipping on lights and digging through Cas’s drawers for a pen and something to write on. “Can you tell me your name again?”

She spoke calmly as she repeated the information and Dean tamped down the anger that started to boil up because how dare she act like his brother being in the hospital was no big deal. “We’ll know more in a couple of hours and when we do, someone will call you back.”

“Ok. Thank you. I’m gonna start heading your way.” 

When the call ended, Dean stood there clutching his phone in both hands. His brain cycled through the few things he knew: Sam was in the hospital. He was unconscious. They didn’t know if there was something else going on with him. 

Dean shook himself out of his paralysis. He had to go. He had to get there and be with Sam. What had he been thinking letting Sam go so far away where Dean couldn’t keep an eye on him? He nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

‘Dean?” Cas was sleep-rumpled, in nothing but his boxers. “What is it?”

Cas looked gorgeous, all smooth skin and muscle, his face etched with concern. Dean knew instinctively that this was his punishment for letting himself be happy. “I have to go. Sam’s in the hospital.” He started to pull away from Cas’s grip, but Cas wouldn’t let him. 

“Slow down. What’s happened?”

Dean rubbed at his eye with the heel of one hand and tried to keep his voice steady. “They don’t know. He was drunk and his friends couldn’t wake him up and they called 911 and now he’s in the hospital.” He had to go. It was going to take him the better part of the day to drive there. “I have to go. They’re going to call me when they know more but I have to start driving.” 

Cas let go of his arm. “You’re going to drive to California?”

Dean let out a big breath. Maybe this was going to cost him his job. He didn’t care. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for a phone call, not when Sam was lying in a hospital bed. “I don’t expect you to understand. But I have to go.”

He went back into the bedroom to get dressed. Cas didn’t follow him.

Pulling on his clothes, he cursed himself for staying at Cas’s. He’d have to hurry back home just to get his car and right now every minute counted. Everything he’d done, every selfish decision he’d made, stacked up to taunt him, leaving him with a series of obstacles that kept him from Sam. He shoved his wallet and phone into his pocket and went back out to the living room to find his boots. Cas was sitting at his laptop. 

Dean picked up his boots and stood there. “I’m sorry to leave you short-handed at the bakery.” 

Cas didn’t look up. Dean wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or if he could go kiss him goodbye. Probably Cas thought it was fucked up that Dean was going to drop everything and go to Sam, but if he couldn’t understand that, then he didn’t know the first thing there was to know about Dean. What they’d had was fun but Dean knew better than to expect that anyone would stick around when his shitshow of a life got complicated, as it always would. 

He sat down on the couch to put on his boots. He was tying the second one when Cas said, “Ok.”

Dean looked up.

“I got us two tickets on a direct flight from Kansas City to Oakland at 9:00 a.m.”

Dean heard all of the words Cas said but they didn’t make any sense. “What?” His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear his own voice. 

Cas came to sit next to him on the couch, putting an arm around him. “We’ll be there by eleven in the morning California time.”

“That’s...you can’t…” Dean buried his face in his hands. 

“I already did.” Cas hugged him close. “He’ll be ok.” 

There was no way to know that, but something about the way Cas said it comforted Dean the tiniest bit. He kept his face hidden and let Cas hold him until the lump in his throat subsided and his eyes stopped stinging. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Cas kissed the top of his head. “Let’s get ready to go.”

*

By 6:30 they were on the road to the airport. Cas had offered to drive but Dean felt helpless enough waiting for news and driving gave him something to do. He kept his phone on the seat between them, but it didn’t ring. As Dean drove, Cas made phone calls. He filled Bobby and Ellen in on the situation, then called Gabe who promised to come help out at the bakery as needed. 

As he took the exit for the airport, Dean couldn’t help but think back to the last time he’d made this drive, with Sam and all of this things in the trunk. He’d been foolish enough to think that was the worst airport trip he would ever make and now it felt like the entire universe was mocking him. He wondered if he’d ever make this drive for a happy occasion, excited and looking forward to this destination. Maybe if Sam were coming home. Thoughts of Sam smiling as he strode through the arrivals door with a backpack over his shoulder and his hair too long were too much right now. That left him with thoughts of a hospital bed, Sam pale and unconscious, surrounded by tubes and monitors. He tried to slow his breathing and focus on what he could control. It had been two hours since the hospital called. They were headed to the airport. Dean would be there before lunchtime in California. 

It wasn’t until he’d parked the car and they were heading for the terminal that Dean fully processed the fact that he’d be getting on a plane. 

They didn’t have bags to check and Cas had the boarding passes on his phone so they headed directly toward the gates. Dean followed Cas as he moved confidently through the crowds, but when the security line came into view, Dean had to stop and catch his breath. He didn’t realize he was bent over with his hands on his knees and his head bowed until Cas was there with a gentle hand between his shoulders. 

“You ok?”

Dean let out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “I forgot to tell you. I’m terrified of flying.”

“Ah,” Cas said, in such a way that Dean lifted his head to look at him. “That explains something Bobby said.”

Slowly, Dean straightened up. “What’d he say?”

“He said ‘You must really be something if you’re getting that boy on a plane.’”

Dean blew out a breath. “He’s not wrong.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Nodding, Dean let himself be led forward with Cas’s hand at the small of his back. 

When they made it to the gate, Dean called the hospital to let them know that he’d be out of touch for the duration of the flight. All Pamela said was that they were still running tests and there were no changes. 

Sitting was terrible. Pacing was only slightly better. The coffee Cas bought for them felt like it was burning a hole in his stomach and he only managed two bites of a breakfast sandwich before it threatened to choke him. When it was time to board, his need to get to Sam warred with his fear of getting on the plane and he stood frozen, rooted to the ground as the other passengers streamed around him. He was sure everyone was staring at him, knowing how ridiculous he was. 

“Ok,” Cas said. “Let’s wait for the line to die down a little bit.”

That was easier and when things were calmer, Dean was able to propel himself down the jetway by keeping his eyes on the back of Cas’s head, focusing on the place where his hair curled forward towards his ear. The aisle of the plane seemed impossibly narrow and, even though there was room for Dean to stand upright, he found himself ducking his head as the space closed in around him. His seat was 16 E but Cas must’ve known that he’d feel even more trapped in a middle seat and slid in first to give Dean the one on the aisle. An older woman sat in the window seat and she observed them silently, watching as Cas untangled the seatbelts and held Dean’s out for him. When Cas reached for his hand, she turned to look out the window. 

“The only thing you need to do is focus on me,” he said, leaning in close so that Dean was forced to meet his eyes. “I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Do you know how to fly the plane?” Dean knew he sounded snippy. He couldn’t help it. “Then you can’t take care of everything else.” 

It didn’t help when the flight attendant began the safety presentation or, as Dean considered it, the Look At All The Ways You Can Die talk. He wished he could shut out the information like Cas suggested, but instead he found himself studying like there was going to be a test later, craning his head around to check for exits. That’s when Cas slid the laminated safety pamphlet out of his hand and replaced it in the seatback pocket. 

“Cas,” Dean hissed, “The nearest exit could be behind us.”

“If there is a problem, I promise to lead you to safety.”

“If there’s a problem, they won’t find enough of us to scrape off the ground.”

Cas didn’t respond, but he took Dean’s hand in both of his and started to slowly massage it, working from his wrist toward his fingers, taking special care to apply pressure into the webbing between Dean’s thumb and first finger. Despite himself, Dean began to relax, zeroed in on the slow, methodical way Cas worked.

“I’m sorry I’m being a jerk.” He let his head drop back against the seat. “And that my hand is so sweaty.”

“You aren’t being a jerk. You’re under a lot of stress.” He leaned closer. “And I don’t mind when you’re sweaty.”

Dean glanced at the lady in the window seat, but she was putting her purse under the seat in front of her.

“Ok,” Dean breathed as the plane started to taxi. “I can do this.” 

“Yes, you can.” Cas leaned over to kiss his cheek. Dean let his eyes flutter shut.

The woman cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” Dean pulled his hand out of Cas’s and opened his eyes to find her holding out a package. “Would you two like some gum?”

Unwrapping the gum gave Dean something to do until they began to roar down the runway. Once they lifted off, he listened for every unexpected noise or sudden vibration that would alert him to imminent death. Chomping on his gum, he tensed all over, a headache starting behind his eyes as he attempted to keep the plane in the sky by the force of his will alone. Cas stayed close, talking to Dean about...Dean wasn’t actually sure what he was saying but his voice was steady and low and it gave Dean something to focus on, like a lifeline in a churning sea. 

Eventually, the plane leveled off and the ride was smooth enough for the crew to switch off the seatbelt sign. Dean let himself slump against the cushion behind him. People reclined their seats or got up to walk around the cabin, baffling Dean with their casual demeanor. “How are they so calm?” he demanded of Cas. “We’re hurtling through space in a tin can.”

Cas rubbed a finger against the tight hinge of Dean’s jaw. “They have trust that the pilots know what they’re doing.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “Is this some sort of have faith in the Lord thing?”

Cas smiled. “It’s the exact opposite. Engineering, physics, training...let the experts do their job.”

“Sounds fake,” Dean said. “Pretty sure if I let my guard down, the plane falls out of the sky.”

Cas patted his knee. “Of course, dear.” He watched as Dean gnawed on his gum, then pulled the wrapper out of his pocket. “Spit that out, you’re going to ruin your jaw.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he relaxed a little and took the offered wrapper and deposited his gum in it. He leaned closer and leered at Cas. “Fraid I won’t be able to—”

His voice trailed off into a squeak as the plane hit an air pocket. Dean’s stomach flipped and he clutched Cas’s arm with both hands. He looked around, but everyone seemed to be going about their business, the flight crew chatting to each other as they pushed the drink cart up the aisle.

Cas seemed unperturbed by the death grip Dean had on his arm. “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, letting go and sitting back in his seat. 

Cas laced their fingers together. “You’re doing great.”

As much as Dean could use a drink, it didn’t seem right to indulge so early in the morning, not when his brother had apparently drunk himself into the hospital. Cas suggested ginger ale, which went down pretty well and, by sipping at it slowly, he managed to kill about twenty minutes of flight time. 

Once the aisle had been cleared, Cas leaned in. “Will you be alright if I go to the bathroom?”

_No_ , Dean thought desperately, but he made his head nod yes. He unbuckled his seatbelt, which felt like an act of reckless abandon and got to his feet so that Cas could get out. If he wasn’t mistaken, Cas pressed past him a little more closely than was necessary and Dean smiled for a moment as he scrambled back into his seat and clicked the seatbelt safely around himself again. Which was probably pointless. Not like this little strap of fabric and metal was going to save him if the plane plunged to the ground. Which, if it was going to happen, would surely happen while Cas was gone. Dean tightened his grip on the armrests, knuckles going white as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on anything but dying alone.

“Excuse me?” the woman in 16F said. _Really? You want to talk now?_ He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She held out her hand. 

“I’m fine,” Dean lied. The smooth air gave way to a light chop and she raised one eyebrow at him. Gratefully, he took her hand. She patted him with her other hand and it was such a kindness that the words started to tumble out of him. “My brother is in the hospital. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and he’s by himself and,” tears sprung to his eyes, “I hope someone there is being as nice to him as you’re being to me.”

“I’m sure he’s being well taken care of.” 

Dean could only nod and scrub a hand over his eyes and then Cas was back, shifting past Dean’s knees so he wouldn’t have to unbuckle and get up. He murmured thanks to the woman and took over hand-holding duty. Dean kept his eyes closed and listened to the sounds of their voices as they chatted. Cas’s voice was a comforting rumble as he told her about the bakery and she, as often happened when he informed people what he did for a living, told him about something special from her own childhood, in this case a chocolate cake her grandmother used to make. 

“The secret is a bit of strong coffee in the frosting,” she confided.

 *

Somehow, they got to the ground safely in Oakland. Dean switched his phone out of airplane mode to find he had a missed call and a voicemail saying that Sam had woken up. He called back, but this time no one answered. In the terminal, his initial relief at being back on solid ground was replaced with an increased urgency to get to his brother. Whereas he’d practically stumbled around in Kansas City, he strode purposefully through the airport until he found where to get a cab to the hospital. 

According to the maps program on Dean’s phone, it would take nearly another hour to get there.  The cab crawled through traffic at a painfully frustrating pace, the scenery nothing but concrete and cars. He’d at least expected California to be sunny but low grey clouds hung over everything. Finally, they crossed the bay but Dean could scarcely take in the view of the water with his mind so fixated on reaching the other side. 

Once they arrived at the hospital, the emergency entrance was easy to find and he took off through the sliding door while Cas was still paying the driver. Cas caught up with him as he waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, to check in at the desk where they were given visitor stickers. A door was buzzed open for them to enter the emergency department which was laid out in a big rectangle with patient rooms surrounding a central station where doctors and nurses worked. The department was noisy. Phones were ringing, televisions blared, a man moaned loudly, and Dean could hear someone vomiting. Overwhelmed, he stopped walking until he felt the touch of Cas’s broad palm at the small of his back, steering him forward. 

Sam’s room was in the far corner and Dean sucked in a deep breath before sliding back the curtain. Sam was awake and his eyes widened when he saw his brother. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was lank and limp but he seemed all right otherwise. 

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

He looked so baffled by Dean’s presence that Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Well, Sammy, it seemed like a good time to check out California so I hopped on a plane. You’re not too busy for a visit are you?”

“You flew here?”

“Yes,” he said calmly, like it was no big deal. It was a very big deal. 

Sam’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean set his bag on a chair and went to hug his brother, careful of the IV in his right arm. “You okay?” he whispered. Sniffling, Sam nodded into his shoulder. After another long moment, Dean released him. “Good, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

Sam didn’t even argue or try to defend himself, he merely let his head drop forward as he blinked away tears. 

“So, what the hell happened?” 

Twisting the hospital bracelet, Sam explained. “I was hanging out with some people from my hall and we were doing shots and...I guess it got away from me.”

Dean wanted to be sympathetic because the kid looked miserable enough as it was, but an edge of anger rippled through him. “Cause that sure worked out so well for dad.”

Sam chanced a look at him before looking away again. “I know.” 

“All that time you spent bitching about him and now this is how you act?”

Sam rubbed his face with both hands. “No, I know. Only…”

“Only what?”

“These things can be genetic, so maybe…” He looked about six years old, so open in his concern. 

Dean softened. “Look. You got yourself into trouble one time. That doesn’t mean you’re destined to end up like him. But you have to be smarter than this.”

“It’s really hard here,” Sam said, barely above a whisper. 

Dean didn’t have to respond to that because the doctor came in just then to speak with them. He introduced himself and confirmed that they’d found nothing more than an overabundance of alcohol in his system. He had a kind, easy way about him and was matter of fact, but didn’t lecture Sam, like Dean kind of hoped he would. With a reminder to Sam to stay extra-hydrated, he left to put in the official discharge orders. 

It wasn’t too long before a nurse came with some paperwork as well as a plastic bag full of Sam’s clothes and other belongings. Dean and Cas stepped out of the room to give him privacy to change. 

“Are you all right?” Cas asked quietly as soon as they’d closed the curtain behind them. 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, now that I see he’s ok.” His relief was tinged with frustration. “I can’t believe he was this stupid.”

“It’s a big adjustment, being on his own and figuring out what that means.”

“Yeah.” Cas reached for him, but Dean only tolerated a quick hug. 

Dean’s instincts had been to keep Sam close to home, close enough that he could keep an eye on him, close enough that Sam knew he always had somebody in his corner. That way all Sam needed to do was focus on school and Dean could’ve worried about the rest of it. 

Standing in the controlled chaos of the emergency department, his mind spun with the ways he should’ve better prepared Sam to be on his own. Maybe he’d held on too tightly all those years, leaving Sam adrift and floundering once the cord had been cut. Sam had never been one for partying, especially not after he’d seen what alcohol had done to their dad, and more than once he’d lectured Dean about his own drinking. But Dean should’ve addressed this with him before he’d left. Instead, Dean had joked about condoms and girls and whatever. Hell, he was the one who’d encouraged Sam to get out of his room and party. 

Days had gone by without them being in touch because Dean was too busy playing house with Cas. He’d spent too much time thinking with his dick to notice that Sam was falling apart. He was still lost in thought when Sam pulled back the curtain, a little wobbly on his feet, but upright and dressed. 

The relief of seeing Sam looking like himself again churned with the bitterness of his own guilt. 

“Why don’t you come hang out at our hotel for a while.” Dean could get some food into him at least, give him some room to nap and relax. 

“I think I want to go back to my dorm and take a shower,” Sam said, not quite looking at his brother. “If that’s all right.”

Dean tried not to bristle and Cas, sensing it, put a hand on his shoulder. “How about we take you out for an early dinner?”

Sam nodded gratefully. “That would be good. If you want to come to my dorm first I can show you around?” 

Dean nodded, but he could feel his jaw beginning to ache again. “Yeah, sure. Go get cleaned up…wait, how are you getting back? Do you need money for a cab?” Dean reached for his wallet but Sam shook his head.

“I have a bus pass.”

They walked out of the emergency department to go their separate ways. Dean watched his brother head to the bus stop, watched him walk away with his head down and his shoulders hunched. When he was out of sight, they got into a cab, riding in silence to the hotel Cas had booked which, it turned out, wasn’t far from campus. 

“He could’ve ridden with us.” Dean couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“He could’ve,” Cas agreed.

Dean knew Cas was being purposefully vague so as not to provoke him. The adrenaline that had fueled him to rush across the country had dropped and it left Dean unsettled and more than a little irritated that the first thing Sam wanted to do when he saw his brother was walk away again. 


	13. Chapter 13

After Cas paid for the cab, Dean stood impotently in the hotel lobby, his hands shoved in his pockets, while Cas dealt with checking them in. 

“Why don’t you rest for awhile,” Cas suggested gently once they’d gotten to their room. “You must be hungry. I can get us something to eat.”

The exhaustion and the stress of the day bubbled up into something he couldn’t keep inside. He spun around to confront Cas. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?” 

Cas didn’t answer, he just stood there looking at Dean with his dumb blue eyes, like he expected better of him. Of course he did. Dean should be down on his knees thanking Cas for everything he’d done, for the way he’d swooped in with his credit card to clean up Dean’s mess yet again. 

Cas made no move to touch him, but his voice was calm and kinder than Dean deserved. “Why do you think?”

Jesus, this was not the time. Instead of answering, Dean clenched his hands into fists. “I’ll pay you back for all of this.”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t need you to.”

“I will,” Dean promised. It would take awhile, but without Sam around he could pick up a few additional hours somewhere if he needed to. He dropped his bag on the dresser and when he turned back around, Cas was standing right there. Dean shook his head.  “Cas, don’t.”

Still not touching him, Cas locked onto him with that steady gaze. “Do you remember telling me once that the people you considered family were the ones you wanted to share the good things with and the first ones you wanted to call when things got rough?” 

Dean remembered it well, remembered the surprise of seeing Cas at his door with Sam’s cake, remembered the defiance with which he’d responded when Cas had called Bobby and Ellen and Jo not “real” family. 

God, he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to Cas, but after being such an asshole to him, it felt like too much to ask for so all he managed was a nod. 

Cas laid a hand on his cheek. “That’s who you are to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, pressing into his touch. Cas held him then, pulling him close and wrapping him tight in his arms. Dean breathed him in, soaked up his solid presence and his unwavering support. He felt the love radiating from him and, instead of pulling away before it got to be too intense or complicated, he buried his face in Cas’s shoulder and let himself be comforted.

When they broke apart, Dean reached for his hand. “Will you lie down with me?”

“Of course.” 

They shrugged out of their jackets and pulled off their shoes and got into the bed. Dean’s brain was still running in overdrive, but his body was exhausted and it helped to lie there with Cas curled up against his back. Cas held him close with an arm across his middle, the warm tickle of his breath and the sound of his heartbeat lulling Dean into relaxing. The sounds of Oakland carried on outside...traffic and machinery and people laughing and shouting. It was a part of Sam’s world, a part Dean couldn’t know. But here, cocooned inside with Cas, Dean felt grounded enough to try and learn it. 

*

After a nap, Dean felt more human. It helped, too, that Cas acquired them some snacks while he slept. Seeing that Dean was fed and rested, Cas suggested he go alone to Sam’s dorm, giving the brothers some time together before they all met up for dinner. 

Walking across campus to the dorm, Dean took in the buildings and the swarms of students. He felt so much older than they were, like he’d lived an extra lifetime they hadn’t. Maybe he had. When he found the dorm, he texted Sam to come let him in. Sam looked better, and he walked Dean through the lobby where Dean caught glimpses of posters announcing clubs and concerts and tutoring help. He used his ID to get them through a second locked door and Dean trailed behind him up a couple of flights of stairs to a long, narrow corridor. Sam lived on a mixed floor and, since some of the doors were propped open, Dean passed rooms that belonged to both girls and boys. In most of them, kids were hunched over laptops, either sprawled out on beds or sitting in desk chairs. Music was coming from more than one room and traveling down the hall was not unlike flipping through radio stations. Sam pointed out the study lounge which, Dean noticed, was devoid of anyone actually studying, as well as his resident advisor’s door which was in the center of the hallway. From the information Dean had gotten, it appeared the RA, Billie, had been responsible for calling the paramedics and providing Dean’s contact info to the hospital.

Sam’s room was a few doors further down, on the left. Once he opened the door, it was easy to see which side was his. Sam’s bed was neatly made with his simple comforter. Books and papers were stacked on his desk. A hoodie was folded over the back of his desk chair, but other than that everything was tidy and in its place. 

“Brady went home for the weekend,” Sam explained. Dean looked at his roommate’s side: the walls were covered in posters and three of the dresser drawers were partially open due to overflowing clothes which blocked them from shutting all the way. A pizza box and some empty cans and bottles were lined up on his desk. 

The room was small but somehow Sam looked smaller inside it. Dean wandered over to the window to check out the view. It opened onto another wing of the dorm and he could see students congregated in the courtyard below, standing in clusters or sitting on the grass. He turned and leaned against the sill, looking at Sam who sat on the edge of his bed, head hanging like he was waiting for a lecture. 

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck for a minute, watching as his brother shifted nervously. “What’s going on with you?”

A muscle in Sam’s jaw flexed before he spoke. “I...I’m not sure I should be here.”

For a moment Dean’s heart tripped in his chest. He could pack Sam up with him now and bring him back home. He could enroll at KU and even live in the dorms there if he wanted. Dean brought himself back to the moment at hand because Sam was still staring at the floor. “Why not?”

Sam looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “Everyone here is so smart and I’m just…” he gestured vaguely as he trailed off.

The plan to make Sam come home dissolved. Dean folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah and?”

“It’s really hard, is all.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s Stanford.”

Sam got to his feet and paced the small space between the beds. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

“Everyone here is smarter than I am. They went to fancy high schools and they’ve traveled the world and they go on ski vacations and…”

“That doesn’t make them smarter than you.”

“I know, but.” He sighed. “Everything’s different here.”

Dean had been pissed for a long time about Sam applying early decision to Stanford, but the urge to say _this was what you wanted_ died on his tongue. He hadn’t wanted Sam to leave but he took no pleasure in seeing his brother like this, defeated and lacking in confidence. 

“Look, Sam. You’re here because Stanford says you’re smart enough to be here. They take the best of the best and guess what? That’s you. Yeah, it’s hard. It’s supposed to be. But you can do this. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Sam stopped pacing. “But I’m fucking up already.”

“Yeah you fucked up good, no two ways about it, but you can do this.”

“I don’t know if I can.”  

“Look, I probably didn’t do you any favors by making your life so easy at home.” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean held up a hand and he backed off. “And God knows I’m no role model where this shit is concerned but...you’ve got to let somebody know when you’re struggling. They’ve got people here to talk to...RAs or counselors or professors or whatever. But you have to tell somebody instead of drinking yourself into the hospital.”

For the first time, a hint of a smile played around Sam’s mouth. “Are you—Dean Winchester—telling me I need to talk about my feelings?”

Dean smiled back. “I’m not saying it’ll work for me. But maybe for a nerd like you.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” His face turned serious again. “I really am sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll forgive you for scaring me half to death and making me get on a plane to see your sorry ass for myself.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance. Hey, I want to go talk to your RA if that’s cool with you.” 

“Sure, I’ll introduce you.” Sam opened the door to find a blonde girl standing in the hall. As Dean watched, her face cycled from surprised to relieved to mad. 

She put her hands on her hips. “You live.”

Sam actually blushed. “I do. Um, Jess, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is Jess.”

She gave Dean a little wave. 

“I’ll go talk to Billie. You talk to Jess.”

Jess followed Sam into his room and Dean stood for a moment outside the open door. “I hope you’re not mad that I told Billie,” he heard her say. “Ruby wanted to leave you in your room to sleep it off, but I don’t know. You looked really bad.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I was dumb and I’m sorry I made you worry.”

By the time Dean was done thanking Billie, Jess had left and Sam was looking decidedly better. 

“She seems nice,” is all Dean said and really he deserved a medal for showing such restraint. 

“She is,” Sam said, turning pink again. He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it over his head. “Looks like things with you and Cas are going well.”

“They are,” Dean agreed. 

“He must really like you if he’s still hanging around after watching you piss yourself on an airplane.” 

Dean whacked him on the back of the head as he passed. “I’ll tell you what he _really_ likes about me if you want, Sammy.”

“Oh my God, don’t you dare, Dean.”

Over dinner, Sam and Dean agreed that it would be fine for Dean and Cas to fly back home the next morning. Cas did some sort of magic on his phone and arranged the tickets before they’d even finished the meal. When it was time to part ways, Sam thanked Cas for everything and, when Cas tried to shake his hand, Sam pulled him into a hug. Smiling, Cas caught Dean’s eye over Sam’s shoulder, and Dean felt a sense of peace wash over him. 

“Ok, here’s the deal,” he told his brother when he’d untangled his long limbs again. “I’m not going to bug you all the time, but when I text you, I expect to hear back.” Sam nodded. “And from now on, we’re going to Skype once a week so I can see your stupid face and make sure you’re all right.” Sam didn’t even roll his eyes so Dean knew he was on the right track. “You’ve got this.” He hugged his brother tightly and spoke softly as he did. “If you’re really miserable, we can talk about it at Christmas.” He felt Sam nod against his shoulder. 

*

The plane ride back was somber but not fraught with the same anxiety as the ride there. Dean felt the miles stretching out as he got further from his brother, but something about having seen his room and met some of his friends made it easier. Plus the more formal schedule for actually laying eyes on his brother, even through a computer screen, brought a sense of ongoing connection that he’d thought was gone. It didn’t make the flying much easier, but having Cas by his side took a lot of the edge off. 

The sun was nearly down when they began the drive from Kansas City, and Cas dozed in the passenger seat for much of the ride. Dean couldn’t help stealing glances at him as he drove, his presence a stark reminder of how different this trip was from when he dropped off Sam. That night he’d headed back to his apartment nearly suffocating on his own loneliness. 

Cas woke when Dean exited the highway and rubbed his eyes as he took in their surroundings. “Do you want to come over?” 

“I think I’d rather go to my place.” 

“Of course. That’s fine. You can drop me off or I can walk.” 

Dean felt a little flicker of irritation at Cas thinking he would make him walk home. The implication that Dean needed to be treated with kid gloves was annoying but he knew Cas was only trying to respect his needs. Which, come to think of it, would be a whole lot easier if Dean actually made them clear.

He reached for Cas’s hand. “No, I meant both of us.”

Cas smiled. “Perfect.”

He’d left a bit of a mess behind in his rush to get to the airport and he came home to lights on and drawers yanked open. It didn’t take long for him to put things back in order while Cas made a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches for them. Dean stood for a moment in Sam’s doorway. It had been almost jarring to see his familiar items in an unfamiliar setting. But Sam would be home again in a matter of weeks for Christmas break and Dean felt better for having seen where he lived now. Being able to picture him in his dorm or walking around campus made it feel less like he was gone from here and more like he had arrived someplace new. He pulled the door closed when Cas called him to come eat, walking back through the apartment which was filled with the warm toasty scent of buttered bread and melted cheese.

The sight of Cas standing in the kitchen, looking at home as he served plates, did something to Dean’s heart. It wasn’t just that he’d made himself comfortable in Dean’s life, it was that he’d been there for Dean in ways he never could have anticipated. And maybe the most unlikely part was that Dean had let him. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d accepted Cas’s generosity and his company instead of pushing him away to close ranks around himself to try and deal with this on his own. There’d never been room for anyone to be fully in his life before, not other than Sam. Right here, at this very moment, it occurred to him what he’d been missing. Suddenly it was obvious what a gift Cas had been to him and what his presence in Dean’s life meant.

The thought left him nervous, stomach full of unanticipated butterflies and, even though he was hungry, he only picked at his sandwich.

“Did you want something different?”

Dean almost laughed at the absurdity of the question when everything he wanted was sitting across the table from him. “I think I’m ready to get into bed.”

His bed seemed extra comfortable after the too-firm hotel mattress with the covers tucked in so tightly he’d had to liberate them to free his feet. In the darkness, Dean rolled to face Cas, letting Cas hold him as he tried to relax. With his face pressed up against Cas’s shoulder, it was easy to kiss him there, light little kisses just inside the collar of his t-shirt. 

“Sam couldn’t believe I told him to talk about his feelings.”

He felt Cas’s amused huff of laughter rumble through his chest. “Not really your thing, I know. But you get your point across in other ways.”

Dean worked his way up Cas’s neck and jaw to kiss him hard on the mouth. “I can do better than that.”

With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Cas raise his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” But instead of kissing him, Dean buried his face back in Cas’s neck for a long moment before propping himself up on one elbow. “Cas…”

Something in his expression must have given him away because Cas immediately turned serious and his voice was soft and gentle. “Dean. You don’t have to.”

“I know. And that makes me want to even more.” Dean chewed his lip for a moment. “After the way we met, I never could have imagined us ending up like this, but we did and you’re here and…” Dean took in a deep, fortifying breath. “And I love you.”

He thought the words might leave him open and vulnerable, ready to shield the cracks they created, but instead he felt buoyant and giddy, like he was filled with helium or light. Grinning down at Cas, he said it again, the words flowing easily this time. “I love you.”

Cas grinned back. “I love you, too.”

Dean kissed the tip of his nose. “Ok, now where were we?”


	14. Chapter 14

“Can you hand me a trash bag, Dean?”

From his vantage point in the doorway, Dean pulled one out of the box and shook it open, but stopped short of passing it over to his brother. “I don’t have to do this. You know that, right? We can keep everything the way it is and you won’t have to spend your break doing this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This stuff is never going to fit me.” He held up a pair of pants that probably wouldn’t come much past his calves. “Did you know that I’m still growing?”

“Gee, no, Sam. You never mentioned it.” Dean had been somewhat dismayed to realize that Sam was as tall as he was when he’d picked him up at the airport for winter break. Maybe he had been at the end of October and they’d both been too preoccupied to notice, but all Dean knew for sure was that he hadn’t been that tall when he’d left in September. Filled to his new height entirely with glee, Sam had been making them stand back to back almost every day, like maybe he’d wake up one morning suddenly taller than his older brother. There was nothing Dean could do about that, but he tried to retaliate the best he could by making kissy noises every time he saw Sam grinning at his phone, tapping out yet another text to Jess. 

Sam shoved the pants into the bag, along with some other old clothes that had been hanging in the back of his closet. His books were packed into boxes and stacked neatly in one corner of his room for Dean to take. Other than that, Sam had been willing to pitch nearly everything, but Dean had fished some of his old papers and projects out of the discards and put them in the box where he kept Sam’s debating medals and report cards and the edition of the school newspaper that listed all of his awards.  

Dean’s things had also been sorted through but instead of being packed away, he’d been moving them to Cas’s place one carload at a time. They’d been spending most nights together as it was and, with Dean’s lease expiring at the end of December, the discussion of moving in together had happened just after Thanksgiving. It made financial sense for sure but Dean worried that Sam would feel rootless, with no real place to call home. When he’d broached the subject with him during one of their weekly Skype calls, Sam, to his surprise, had been completely on board. 

Cas had a small second bedroom that was going to function as an office but also be Sam’s room whenever he came back to Kansas. “All I need is a bed and a desk and some decent wifi” he’d said, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief at being able to promise him all three. 

Thanksgiving had been a bit of a turning point in general for Dean and Cas when Naomi had unexpectedly passed along an invitation for Dean to join them for the holiday. Dean would have been fine either way. It was nice to be included but he didn’t want to stress Cas out if it meant setting him up for  some sort of unpleasant interaction with his mother. Cas, after giving Dean multiple opportunities to back down, had accepted the offer and, while it certainly wasn’t the most relaxing holiday meal Dean had ever experienced, everyone was on their best behavior. At the end of the evening, Naomi had hugged Dean and told him he was welcome back any time. 

(“I’m pretty sure she likes you better than she likes me,” Cas had grumbled when they left. Dean had put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, promising to put in a good word for him.)

So, holidays with the family were now a thing, which meant the next conundrum was how to coordinate Christmas with both sides. One morning they were lying in bed discussing just that when Cas sat up, ran his hands through his hair and said, “It would be a lot simpler if you moved in here.”

Dean looked at him. He hadn’t had coffee yet so maybe that’s why his boyfriend’s words didn’t make sense. “How does that help with Christmas?” Cas’s apartment was great but it wasn’t really set up to host either family for a holiday meal. 

Flopping back down again, Cas said, “It wouldn’t, but you’d live here with me and that would make everything better.”

There was no way Dean could resist that foolproof logic.

*

Christmas was, of course, a busy time for the bakery. Along with the usual fare, they were churning out lemon-ginger molasses cake, chocolate rolled yule logs, and all sorts of beautifully decorated holiday sugar cookies. Dean added eggnog, peppermint, and gingerbread flavors to the coffee bar to go along with the pumpkin spice that Cas refused to let him retire. With a little practice, Christmas trees, snowmen, and even one attempt at a dreidel enhanced his latte art repertoire. 

On Christmas Eve day, Cas closed the bakery at noon, loading Kevin and Charlie down with boxes of goodies for themselves as well as packages for them to drop by the senior center when they left. Sam was with friends for the afternoon but they all had plans to spend Christmas Eve with Cas’s family, then they would drive to Sioux Falls in the morning for a few days with Bobby and Ellen. 

For now, though, there was no rush and they took their time cleaning up, working together as Dean played Christmas carols on his phone. By the time they were done, snow had begun to fall, big thick flakes swirling and fluttering downward from the iron-grey sky. Warm inside the bakery, they stood with their shoulders touching, watching the scene outside. Lights twinkled in the big front window framing the people passing by, bundled in their winter coats and gloves and hats. Their breath made frosty puffs and their arms were laden with bags and packages as they made last-minute preparations for their celebration. It was the same view they always had, the same people moving along the same sidewalk, but the snow and the holiday made it feel charming and special. 

Months ago, Dean had stood in the dark on the other side of the glass, unsteady on his feet and unable to see anything but what he’d lost and would continue to lose. He’d tried hard to ignore the changes that were coming, those endings he was sure would break him. Those changes had come, bringing with them losses, but not only had he survived, he’d grown and found himself someplace unexpected. With a chance to focus on himself for maybe the first time ever, he’d discovered space in his heart and his life to let Cas in. 

He turned to look at the man standing next to him, to trace the now-familiar lines of his profile. Cas had given him a chance that night and, in doing so, had unknowingly begun a new chapter for the both of them. Cas caught him staring and Dean smiled at him, content and grateful. When Cas took his hand, Dean turned from the window to follow him home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My sfw fics can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder).
> 
> I am [scones-and-texting-and-murder](http://scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> If you're hungry, here are links to some of the recipes that were mentioned in the fic: 
> 
>    
> [Missouri Bars](https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/chocolate-raspberry-bars/amp)
> 
> [Triple Cinnamon Scones](https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/triple-cinnamon-scones-recipe)
> 
>  
> 
> [Snickerdoodles ](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/10687/mrs-siggs-snickerdoodles/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Apricot Pistachio Oatmeal Cookies](https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/pistachio-apricot-oatmeal-cookies-108704)
> 
>  
> 
> [Cinnamon Rolls](https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/cinnamon-rolls-recipe)
> 
> [Buttermilk Caramel Sauce](https://ourbestbites.com/2009/06/buttermilk-caramel-syrup/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Bourbon Apple Pie ](http://www.sprinkledwithjules.com/home/bourbon-apple-pie)
> 
>  
> 
> [Lemon Ginger Molasses Cake](http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/lemon-ginger-molasses-cake-with-whipped-cream-3363376)


End file.
